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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27466726">The Royal Treatment</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/elleflies/pseuds/elleflies'>elleflies</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Accidental Queenship [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Lucifer (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Marriage, Accidental Queen of Hell, Crack Treated Seriously, Demons, Despot-on-Despot Action, F/M, Fae &amp; Fairies, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, General Hell Depravity, Hell, Hell Loops (Lucifer TV), Humor, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Mythical Beings &amp; Creatures, Pixies, Post-Season/Series 04, Prepubescent Entrepreneurs, Sexual Content, Supernatural Elements</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:26:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>47,895</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27466726</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/elleflies/pseuds/elleflies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Chloe and Lucifer aren’t married, but try telling that to the supernatural community of Los Angeles and the infernal plane full of demons ecstatic to see their boss finally tied down, literally or otherwise.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Accidental Queenship [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006800</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>425</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>709</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Go Fish</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/headuphigh/gifts">headuphigh</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my 'I'm super duper stressed out because life has kicked me in the teeth and I need to write something funny' fic. It was supposed to be a one shot, but it decided it wanted to be a fully fleshed out fic.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The insanity starts on a Saturday at a little Ethiopian restaurant near La Brea.</p><p>Chloe goes because her mom has taken a renewed interest in Chloe’s lack of a social or dating life. Her mom won’t let up, so in the name of keeping the peace, Chloe gives in to her mom’s suspect matchmaking and agrees to a date with the son of her mother’s accountant.</p><p>Chloe shows up for her lunch date with weary acceptance. The restaurant has good reviews, at least, and she’s excited for the food, since Trixie turns up her nose at Ethiopian anytime Chloe suggests it. She tells herself she just has to act normal and talk about normal things. Not homicides, or the Devil, or how she’s in love with the Devil. Because that would be weird.</p><p>Matt—the accountant—is nice. That’s her first impression. He’s normal and bland, working for a big corporation. He’s nervous, but his smile is kind. He pulls her chair out for her when they first sit down, and he stutters a bit as they get to know each other. He’s endearing, or at least she tries to convince herself he is.</p><p>He doesn’t seem like an immortal mob boss, a demon, or the Devil. But she overlooked the actual Devil for almost three years, so her judgement on things supernatural might be lacking. With her luck, Matt’s probably a vampire accountant. Her lips quirk into a smile at the thought of bland, boring Matt crunching numbers with a glass of blood in hand.</p><p>He perks up at her grin, and his story about one of the receptionists at his office gets more elaborate and involved at her supposed attention. She’s really not interested; she tries to be, but after solving homicides with the Devil, it's just… not the same. How could it be?</p><p>She tears a piece of stretchy injera off the plate and dips it into the spicy wot. It’s exactly what she’s craving. Flavors explode on her tongue followed by a delicious burn. If Lucifer were here, he’d be telling her some story about how this place got its start because he did a favor for one of the owners and then would segue into how he also did a <i>favor</i> for the owner's daughter or son, and then somehow he’d end up telling her about an escapade in Ethiopia some hundreds of years ago. Even when she thought his stories were clearly made up, they were still fun and amusing. He told them with flashing eyes, an easy smile, and hands that never stopped moving.</p><p>Matt can’t compare. How could he? It’s not his fault Chloe is in love with someone else. </p><p>He rattles on about how Diane in accounts receivable and Austin in purchasing got married and were trying to keep it on the down low but had failed miserably, and Chloe finds it hard to care. The story reminds her too intensely of precinct gossip, and before that, the gossip magazines that had loved featuring her as a rising star known for taking her top off.</p><p>Her eyes wander past Matt. The restaurant is small and fairly cramped with dark wood paneling and tables tucked into every corner. Normally, she doesn’t pay much attention to people dining around her, but the group at the table in the back corner stands out. Five women, a range of ages and ethnicities, and they keep looking at her. At first she thought they were glancing toward the window, trying to spot another member of their group. But the more Chloe sits there, the more convinced she is that she is the source of their focus.</p><p>They bend their heads over what looks like a tarot deck, glance her way, and whisper furiously.</p><p>She eats almost mechanically, nodding and smiling at all the right places for Matt, while keeping an eye on the back table.</p><p>She hasn’t seen them before. Her memory for faces is pretty good—perks of the job—and none of them are ringing any bells. She still gets recognized occasionally from her role in <i>Hot Tub High School</i> or even some of her older Disney Channel stuff. To her everlasting shame, the movie’s a cult classic and almost ubiquitous in pop culture. Her life would be so much easier if it had flopped.</p><p>“Phew,” Matt says. Her attention snaps back as he fans at his mouth. “I think I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick.”</p><p>Chloe smiles and nods. She pops another piece of injera in her mouth.</p><p>Matt snakes his way toward the bathrooms in the back, and Chloe chances another glance at the women at the corner table. Without Matt in the way, she has an unobstructed view. The oldest of the group—a pale woman with short iron grey hair—meets her gaze. The woman narrows her eyes. Chloe glares back before dabbing her mouth with her napkin, picking up her purse, and standing. All five sets of eyes watch. She marches over to the table.</p><p>“You’ve been looking at me the entire meal. Do I know you?” Chloe asks, fairly certain she knows the answer.</p><p>“No,” the gray-haired woman replies. “I’m so sorry; we didn’t mean to impose.”</p><p>“Okay, so why all the staring? I can’t be that interesting.”</p><p>“You’re so pretty!” the youngest member of the group pipes up. Her hair falls in dark waves, and her bold makeup emphasizes dark eyes. She smiles, and Chloe feels a twinge of jealousy. She’s never been able to pull off that shade of red lipstick. The woman rests her cheek on her hand and sighs up at Chloe. “You look so <i>bridal</i>.”</p><p>That is not a comment Chloe expects to hear. Bridal. What does that even mean? She’s wearing an overlarge sweater on a lunch date with a man she isn’t interested in. “Excuse me?” she splutters out.</p><p>“We’re just happy to see you, dear,” The gray-haired lady says with a stern look at her younger counterpart. “We’ve heard so much about you.”</p><p>“From <i>Hot Tub High School</i>?” Chloe asks, wondering if they’re having two different conversations.</p><p>“What’s he like?” the dark-haired girl says.</p><p>“Who? My date?” </p><p>“No. <i>Him</i>.” The girl raises her eyebrows. </p><p>Chloe shakes her head. This has to be about her former co-star. She’s not sure who else they could mean. Lucifer? She doesn’t know why anyone would care. But her former co-star—there’d been so many rumors they’d slept together when <i>Hot Tub High School</i> was coming out. Their chemistry had been undeniable, and they’d gone on one date. The kissing had been pretty great, but it had never progressed after that. Her dad had died, and she’d been in no headspace to think about a relationship.</p><p>A woman wearing a cat t-shirt raises her hand like she’s waiting for the teacher to call on her. When Chloe doesn’t acknowledge her, she blurts out, “What’s he like in bed?”</p><p>Chloe gapes. “I don't like to talk about my relationships.” </p><p>“Oh, bless, where is my head?” The older woman interrupts with a sharp look at the cat lady. “I’m Ellen.” She holds out a slender hand. Chloe shakes it, her eyes narrowed. “Our local coven meets here once a week. We were just so happy to see you walk in with your friend. The cards have been abuzz, not that they’re ever straightforward, but Jeannie read the entrails the other day, and my goodness, those told a story.”</p><p>Chloe gapes. Witches. Entrails. Los Angeles is bringing a whole new version of nutty today. “I don’t… I really think you have the wrong person,” she says firmly.</p><p>Ellen smiles. “It’s okay, dear.” She sighs. “I remember what it was like when my Marty was away. Business in Europe, you see. This was back before the Internet so we couldn’t talk as often.” She shakes her head and smooths her hands over the table. “I’m so terribly sorry.”</p><p>A pit yawns wide in Chloe’s stomach. “I think I’m going to go.” </p><p>Matt steps out of the hallway leading to the bathroom and raises his eyebrows at Chloe. He beams at the women behind the table. Five sets of eyes glare back. “She’s already taken,” the woman in the cat t-shirt says.</p><p>“Friends of yours?” Matt asks Chloe.</p><p>“I think we’re done here.” She turns on her heel and heads back to the table to pay. When she leaves, she puts Matt and the supposed witches out of her head; she has enough to deal with already. </p>
<hr/><p>She and Dan have a good equilibrium with their little monkey. Trixie alternates weeks staying with each parent, and they try, for the most part, to swap out who works late. It’s not perfect, and there are plenty of times Chloe feels like she’s failing her daughter. But she reminds herself almost daily that she’s a working mom who’s only trying to do her best.</p><p>Her best also means calling out of work in the middle of the afternoon to sit in the Principal's office and discuss the illicit candy Trixie has been selling her classmates on the sly.</p><p>A veritable treasure trove of candy sits on top of the Principal’s desk, and from the way everything is arranged, it’s uncomfortably reminiscent of looking at a drug bust.</p><p>The school only realized there was a candy problem on campus because Trixie wasn't the only student with a burgeoning candy empire, and her entry into the field was an enormous upset to her rivals, leading to a fight in the school cafeteria.</p><p>Trixie is small, but she trains under Hell’s head torturer. She knows how to defend herself. The other students hadn't stood a chance even though they were older and bigger.</p><p>The principal lays out the details of the fight and what started it. Chloe sits there listening in creeping horror as Trixie’s proficiency in a fight becomes perfectly clear. And not just at fighting, but at acquiring and selling some fairly hard to find Japanese candy.<br/>
 <br/>
Her job means that she can’t always be there. She’s had to rely on babysitters and Maze for the times she’s at work, and now she’s wondering how much of a mistake she’s made. How much she’s failed Trixie. </p><p>"Why?" Chloe asks as they walk to her car.</p><p>Trixie huffs and kicks at a fallen leaf. She jams her hands into her pockets, and Chloe wonders when she got so big. "Madison and Lukas are obsessed with Japan, Mom. They watch anime and are learning Japanese, and they're even talking about how they're going to do a vacation to Kyoto with their parents this summer, and I thought maybe if I had the hookup for candy... maybe they'd be friends with me."</p><p>"Babe," Chloe says and her heart breaks into tiny little pieces. "They should want to be friends with you regardless of the candy."</p><p>"I know, Mom. That's what Maze said."</p><p>"Maze knows about this?"</p><p>"She got the candy for me. It was really fun. We went to this Japanese restaurant, and they were so polite." Trixie leans over and bumps her arm into Chloe's side. "I think they were afraid of Maze."</p><p>Chloe hits the button to unlock the car. It hurts that Trixie went to Maze first, but she tries to put it out of her mind. Maze and Trixie are friends, and she’s grateful Trixie has that support, but maybe letting a demon babysit wasn’t her best idea. </p><p>Trixie climbs into the back seat and buckles herself in. She bounces in place. “Maze is gonna be super stoked to hear about the fight."</p><p>"You're suspended for two weeks," Chloe points out. "That fight isn't something to be proud of."</p><p>"They came at me first!"</p><p>"You punched someone!"</p><p>Trixie makes a frustrated noise. "He deserved it. You should have heard what he called me."</p><p>“Trixie, that’s not up to you. You should have found a teacher.”</p><p>“I tried to, but they jumped me, Mom. I had to fight back.”</p><p>There’s a headache brewing in the back of her head and Chloe blames herself. Everything Trixie is talking about— it’s a complete lack of discipline on Chloe’s part. Trixie has been through so much and Chloe knows she’s tried to make up for it by giving Trixie more leeway. And now it’s come back to bite her. </p><p>“I don’t mean to be a problem, Mom.”</p><p>Chloe turns and smiles at her daughter. “I love you, Monkey, and I’m glad you know how to defend yourself, but there’s a difference between defense and a brawl.”</p><p>Trixie thumps her feet against the back of the passenger seat and heaves a deep sigh. “I’m sorry, Mom."</p><p>“I know, Monkey.”</p>
<hr/><p>The Weatherly murder is stalling out, and Chloe isn’t sure what to do to get some traction on it. She’s interviewed everyone she can think of. She’s been by the crime scene, looking for more clues. She’s analyzed the available information from every angle she can think of.</p><p>She taps her pen against her desk, glares at her whiteboard, and wants to go home. Seeing as how it's only midday, she's stuck banging her head against the case for longer than she’d like.</p><p>If Lucifer were here… He’d be stupidly distracting, wandering off at every opportunity to bother the forensics department or chat up the unis, and when he finally did come back to her desk, he would pop out with brilliant insight into the case without even realizing he was doing it. </p><p>She glances around at her coworkers, hoping for some inspiration.</p><p>Except... she narrows her eyes. There’s a tall man prowling around the precinct.</p><p>He’s skinny to the point of looking hungry. His clothes are ratty and ill-fitting. A mop of shaggy brown hair spills over his forehead, and a large tangled beard engulfs his face. He stalks through the precinct like he’s about to be jumped and dragged off.</p><p>He takes a few steps, looks at a desk, and sniffs. Her coworkers don’t seem to notice. He leans over Detective Stanley’s desk as her coworker focuses on finishing his report. The man sniffs, loud and long, shakes his head, and continues prowling the precinct. He has no escort, he hasn't signed in as far as she can tell, and whenever her coworkers glance at him, their eyes slide by without noticing.</p><p>He stops, sniffs, and turns towards Chloe. "You," he says, pointing straight at her.</p><p>"Can I help you?" she asks, unsure why she's being singled out.</p><p>To her surprise, he kneels, lowers his head, and tilts it to the side, so his neck is exposed.</p><p>“Can I help you?” she repeats. </p><p>"My Lady," the man says, head still canted to the side.</p><p>"I don't know what this is about, but if Mulligan put you up to this..." She glances around the precinct, sure someone has noticed the strange situation. She’s been wound up since Lucifer has left so she won’t put it beyond her coworkers to arrange a ridiculous prank. </p><p>The man looks up and shakes his shaggy head. "N-n-no, My Lady, I'm, uh, I'm here, because, um." He trails off and stares at her, eyes wide and terrified, like she might go feral and hurt him at any moment.</p><p>“Hey, listen, it's fine,” she says, slow and gentle, like he might startle and run off. “How about you take a seat." She waves him towards the empty chair across from her desk. "We'll talk. If you have any information about the Weatherly murder, or any other case, I’m all ears."</p><p>He picks himself up off the floor and slides into the chair, his head lowered.</p><p>Chloe clicks her pen and poises it over her notepad. "I'm Detective Decker. And you are?"</p><p>"Simon," the man mumbles, "but I go by Shaggy."</p><p>"Okay, Shaggy, what brings you in today?"</p><p>What comes out of his mouth is a garbled mishmash of names, locations and words that Chloe can’t even begin to understand. Her eyebrows creep upwards as he babbles, he wrings his hands and talks and talks and talks, and all the while her pen hovers over her lined pad of paper. Not a single word written.</p><p>He’s panting when he finally stops. Chloe blinks, swallows and grasps for one of the few things she understood in the sheer number of words he threw her way. "So. You're a werewolf."</p><p>Shaggy nods. A hopeful expression flickers across his face.</p><p>"Okay, um, this isn't how I saw my day going, but sure, why not. Why are you here? Exactly. In as few words as possible."</p><p>"I need your protection from the Orange County Clan."</p><p>"And why do you think I can protect you from a“—she stops and reminds herself the Devil is real, so sure, why not werewolves—“rival clan of, and I can't believe I'm saying this, werewolves?"</p><p>He launches into another garbled explanation that leaves Chloe out of her depth. It sounds like the plot for a terrible urban fantasy flick on Netflix. She knows she shouldn’t judge. Her own relationship, or lack thereof, isn’t exactly standard. But why would a werewolf come to a random LAPD detective for protection?</p><p>Unless this has something to do with her association with Lucifer, but she can’t see how. He was the one who dealt in favors, not her, and he’s been gone for three months. Lux grinds on under Amenadiel’s stewardship, but it isn’t the same.</p><p>Shaggy stops talking with an almost audible snap when she holds up a hand. “I want to help you, really I do, but I’m a homicide detective. There’s not much I can do besides tell you to lay low and possibly leave town. The same advice I’d give to anyone who's in over their heads with the cartels. Unless you have something for me to take to Major Crimes, there’s really not much I can do.”</p><p>Shaggy’s face falls. He wrings his hands together, his complexion sallow and sickly.</p><p>Chloe plucks a business card out of her desk. There’s not much she can do for him, but she can do this. “Here. If you have information I can work off of, I can maybe help, but there’s not much I can do with… werewolf crime families.” She grimaces. “And I just want to check, but you aren’t speaking in metaphors are you?”</p><p>Shaggy glances up, his hairy eyebrows furrowing, and shakes his head. </p><p>Chloe leans forward. “So do you really, um…”</p><p>“Turn into a wolf?” Shaggy supplies. He laughs and shrugs his shoulders like he can’t believe it either. “Yeah. I do. It’s um… we don’t hurt humans.”</p><p>“That’s, wow.”</p><p>“Wow,” Shaggy parrots back. “That’s one way of putting it.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, I’ve never met a werewolf before.”</p><p>Shaggy shrugs and hunches his skinny shoulders. </p><p>“So, I, uh, have to ask. Is that why my colleagues haven’t noticed...?”</p><p>“It’s…” He swallows audibly. “Humans are like that, you know? They don’t want to see the things right in front of their eyes.” </p><p>Chloe purses her lips together. Some of the stranger things Lucifer had done over the course of their partnership flash in front of her eyes, and she can feel the truth of Shaggy’s words. </p><p>He stands, sticks the business card inside his pocket and bows low, tilting his neck her way once more. “My lady, the privilege is all mine.”</p><p>“Thanks,” she replies, unsure why he is so obsequious, but he's also a werewolf, so maybe it's a weird werewolf thing. And, wow, there's a thought. Almost as mind breaking as the Devil being a consultant for the LAPD. “If anything comes up,” Chloe continues, “give me a call. I can’t promise help, but I’ll at least listen.”</p><p>He dips his head one last time, and she watches him slip out of the precinct, unnoticed by anyone but Chloe.</p>
<hr/><p>Hot yoga with Linda is a fairly new routine.</p><p>The sessions started as a way to give Linda a break. Too much work and baby time, and not enough time for herself. She wants to get her figure back, and Chloe definitely understands that feeling. After having Trixie, she’d felt like a stranger in her own body for at least a year after the birth. She loves her little monkey, but pregnancy hadn’t been something she’d enjoyed. When Linda had asked for someone to go with her, Chloe had said yes.</p><p>She’d needed the break too.</p><p>So now here she is, extending her arms and widening her stance as Linda huffs and puffs beside her. Yoga has never been her thing, but Chloe has to admit that the burn in her legs and the stretch of her arms at full extension are particularly enjoyable after a long day. </p><p>“Good,” the yogi croons as she strolls around the various students. “Feel the energy flowing from your feet and up your body.” She adjusts a student who’s wobbling. “Now, let’s step into mountain pose. Plant your feet together. Root yourself to the earth.”</p><p>Chloe lowers her arms so they’re loose by her sides, palms open and steps back so her feet are together. She closes her eyes and rolls her head back.</p><p>“Feel the air in your lungs,” the yogi says. “In and out, breathe deep. If you’re feeling adventurous, move into eagle pose.” Chloe cracks an eyelid open and boggles at the yogi as she brings her right leg up and wraps it around her opposite leg. She twines her arms together. </p><p>Linda grumbles under her breath. Chloe glances to the side; the pose is complicated, but not that bad. Linda shakes her head and jerks it toward the woman to the left of Chloe.</p><p>To her left and a little in front is a dark-skinned woman who’s executing eagle pose flawlessly. Her arms and legs snake together in a way that makes her look boneless. She’s rooted to the spot, unmoving. Not a muscle twitches. She doesn’t even blink.</p><p>Chloe noticed her as soon as she’d walked into the class. Tall and skinny with flawless skin, long dark hair pulled up in a stylish messy bun, everything about her screams model, and Chloe can’t take her eyes off of her. </p><p>She shakes her head at Linda.</p><p>“Now, into table pose, feel the stretch in your hips as you lean forward; let yourself hang, grasp your legs and flow with the energy.”<br/>
The woman untwines her arms and limbs and sinuously drops forward. Chloe and Linda follow suit. The entire class hangs there, breathing deep, and holding onto the backs of their calves.</p><p>The yogi’s soothing tones ring out, “Now, place your hands on the floor, walk your feet back and move into downward dog.” She helps adjust a student, compliments another, and spouts off something new age-y about energy.</p><p>The class flows through a few more poses. They roll onto their backs, and Chloe grasps her feet above her and breathes. Her hips widen and stretch as she settles into the pose.</p><p>“Now rest in corpse pose,” the yogi says. She runs a wooden mallet around the outside edge of a bowl. A gentle hum fills the room. “Release your pent up energy, your concerns, your anxieties; let them flow free. Be in the moment. Rest. Relax. Close your eyes and sink into the earth.” </p><p>Chloe lets her muscles relax as the burn of a good workout zips through her. Linda sighs next to her and Chloe is grateful she came, if only to give Linda much needed support. </p><p>Light conversation drifts through the room as women stand and gather their mats. </p><p>“Sssssssssst.”</p><p>Chloe opens her eyes and glances around. The noise is so incongruous, she wonders if a snake somehow slithered its way into the room.</p><p>“Sssssssst,” the woman hisses, craning her neck back at an uncomfortable angle. She grins at Chloe, and rolls onto her stomach. Her arms splay in front of her like a supplicant. She touches her head to the mat, and Chloe is uncomfortably reminded of words like “prostration” and “genuflection.”</p><p>Her eyes are a dark flash as she looks up at Chloe. “I am Padma,” she says. “Are you Chloe Decker?”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s me.” Chloe is awkward and sweaty and feels like a lumbering whale next to Padma’s effortless elegance. Padma isn’t even sweating. It's not fair. She plants her feet on the mat and pushes herself upright, her hips pop as she moves. Being on the cusp of forty is such a joy.</p><p>Padma beams at her, still splayed out across her mat. “My sisters will never believe I met you!”</p><p>“Always nice to meet a fan,” Chloe replies. Was <i>Hot Tub High School</i> having a resurgence? It's the only explanation she can think of. </p><p>“I’ve heard so many rumors,” Padma says. Chloe watches in horrified fascination as Padma inches her legs back so she’s flat on her stomach and then curves her back. Her hips arch towards her head and her feet end up by her ears, toes pointing forward. Padma wraps her arms over her toes and rests her chin on her folded fingers. She beams at Chloe. “You’re even prettier in person.”</p><p>“Um,” Chloe replies, unable to take her eyes off the backbreaking move Padma is twisted into.</p><p>“I love your eyes,” Padma says. “They’re so blue.”</p><p>Chloe looks over at Linda, who shrugs. “I’m a bit confused. Is this about <i>Hot Tub High School</i>?” </p><p>“Oh, you were in that?” Padma’s toes tap as she squeals. “I knew you looked familiar!” She sighs happily, and her back and rear sways back and forth. “You have amazing breasts.”</p><p>The noise that comes out of Chloe’s mouth isn’t one she thinks she’s ever made. “Thanks? I think,” she manages to sputter out.  </p><p>“My sisters and I had to sneak out to see it,” Padma continues, oblivious. “My mother doesn’t approve. ‘It’s human filth’ blah blah blah. ‘Good Nagas should be studying the stars and the movement of the Earth.' But it’s just so boring! People are so interesting! Mama wouldn’t budge until Māra came to Los Angeles, and if it’s good enough for him, then, well, it’s good enough for my mother.” Her toes bounce by her cheeks. “You should come to dinner! Oh my goodness! Mama would be beside herself entertaining royalty. She loves Māra.” Padma smiles beatifically at her. </p><p>Chloe cut her eyes over at Linda, who isn’t even trying to hide her eavesdropping. She’s staring at the pretzel Padma has made of herself with unabashed fascination. </p><p>Chloe huffs out a breath. “I um, don’t know who Māra is. Sorry.” She admits. “Are you talking about my mom? She’s been called Hollywood royalty before.”</p><p>Padma’s eyebrows knit together. “I’m unfamiliar with your mother…”</p><p>“Penelope Decker, the Vampire Queen? She was in a bunch of cult classic vampire movies back in the day?”</p><p>Padma lets go of her foot and waves a delicate hand. “You should be careful around vampires. They are very full of themselves.”</p><p>Linda coughs and Chloe can see her mouthing “Vampires?”</p><p>“I’ll keep that in mind” Chloe says, attempting to keep a straight face and failing miserably at it. Vampires are real too? What a thing to find out in a yoga class from a random woman who claims she’s a naga, whatever that is. She promises herself she’ll google it later. But, on a scale of vampires to nagas to devils, the revelation that Lucifer was well, <i>Lucifer</i>, was worse.</p><p>Padma lets go of her other foot and unkinks herself. She stretches out on her stomach, still beaming at Chloe. She flicks her tongue out. “I never thought the Devil would take a bride, but he has, and here you are! And I’ve just met you!”</p><p>“He <i>what</i>?!” Chloe snaps into the sudden silence of the yoga studio.</p>
<hr/><p>“It’s all over Los Angeles,” Padma tells them. They’ve retreated to the sidewalk, their yoga mats tucked under their arms as they wait for their rides. “The tempter Māra—you know him as Lucifer—came to Earth and took for himself a human wife.”</p><p>“A wife,” Chloe repeats, deadpan. The words don’t make sense. </p><p>Padma nods, eager and happy to spill her secrets. “It’s all anyone can talk about.”</p><p>Linda places a hand on Chloe’s arm, and Chloe remembers to breathe again. “And how did you, ah, or should I call it the supernatural community, find out?” Linda asks, calm and gentle, like this is a therapy session instead of an insane revelation. </p><p>Padma shifts her mat to her other arm. “I don’t know. Mama said it was all lies at first, but then she heard about it from the Devas, and my sister says the Devas heard it from the Sprites that live by LAX, but I’m not sure where they got it from.” She smiles brightly. “You’re the Detective. Everyone knows about you from before Māra returned to the underworld.”</p><p>“And where does being his wife come into all this?” Linda asks as Chloe imitates a stranded goldfish.</p><p>“Māra does as he will,” Padma says with a shrug. “There’s no predicting the whims of angels.” Her eyes brighten, and she bounces on her toes. “Maybe he did it to protect you! Or, oh, he loves you so much and wanted to claim you.” She squeals and claps her hands together.</p><p>“Okay,” Chloe says, finding her voice. “I belong to myself. I’m no one’s property, let alone Lucifer’s.” Padma nods, her face earnest. “And married? Really?”</p><p>“It’s said you accepted his suit, and he left all his earthly possessions to you.”</p><p>“It’s said,” Chloe repeats, feeling like a broken record.</p><p>A car pulls next to the curb. A tiny dark-skinned woman with a weathered face peeks out the window and shouts at Padma in a language Chloe isn’t familiar with.</p><p>“I’ve got to go,” Padma says. “Granny needs help shopping.” She slithers into a low bow. “It’s such an honor. I can’t wait to tell my sisters and my mama. They’re never gonna believe I met you!” She bounces into the car, chattering at the old woman who looks at Chloe suspiciously.</p><p>On the sidewalk, Chloe and Linda stand side by side, staring into the Los Angeles traffic and the receding tail lights of Padma’s car.</p><p>“Wow,” Linda says. “You’re <i>married</i>.”</p><p>“No. I’m not. This is just a stupid rumor the—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—supernatural community cooked up. It’ll die down as long as I don’t acknowledge it.”</p><p>She ignores the knowing look Linda wears.</p>
<hr/><p>“Lord Morningstar!”</p><p>Fireflies blink on and off over the bayou, and birds rustle and call in the trees behind the old shack. It would be peaceful, if it were possible to ignore the doomed soul screaming as it’s torn to shreds by alligators in the brackish water.</p><p>Lucifer kicks up his heels on the railing and takes a bite of flavorless étouffée. It’s been ages since he’s been to New Orleans, ages since he’s been to the American South at all, and contrary to popular belief, he’s never set foot in Georgia. The last time he’d visited Louisiana had to have been around the mid-1800s. There’d been a rather delightful hairdresser who’d known the most scandalous secrets. Lucifer grins and looks at the tree branches arcing overhead. <i>Marie</i>. She’d been a feisty one, and he’d made some excellent deals based on her advice.</p><p>The fireflies blink on and off.</p><p>“Lord Morningstar!” the demon calls again. The doomed soul gurgles, and the water thrashes as the alligator twists into a death roll. Chunks of flesh and gore float on the water.</p><p>The demon splashes through the muck and the mud and clambers up the steps to the small cabin. “You were difficult to find, My Lord.”</p><p>“Yes, that was rather the point.”</p><p>Lucifer picks up a well-worn stack of playing cards and shuffles them, dealing a hand to Zergal as he drops into the rickety chair across from Lucifer. “Love the look,” Lucifer says. The demon plucks at ratty clothes and smiles, showing off his rotten teeth. Demons are quite astounding at fitting into hell loops. It never ceases to surprise.</p><p>Zergal picks up the cards and wrinkles his nose at them. “Do you have a jack?”</p><p>Lucifer plucks the jack of clubs from the deck and tosses it over to his demon. “What are you here for, Zergal?”</p><p>The demon whistles through his missing teeth and pulls a worn leather satchel onto his lap. He flips open the leather flap one handed and extracts a pile of letters. “Your correspondence, My Lord.” He scans his cards. “Do you have any aces?”</p><p>“Go fish,” Lucifer says. “Since when do I have correspondence?”</p><p>“Gwyn ap Nudd sends his congratulations and reminds you the Wild Hunt approaches,” Zergal says. He plucks a card from the pile and snorts at what he sees.</p><p>The Wild Hunt is a responsibility Lucifer splits with Gwyn and Woden. It had started in the very early years of human history, when domestication was a new concept. It’s something he looks forward to, an excuse to escape the confines of Hell without having to worry about Amenadiel dragging him back. He’d skived off when he’d been living on Earth, too deep in orgies and drugs and Lux to care or even notice.</p><p>“Let Gwyn know I can’t leave Hell at this time, and that I trust he’ll carry on without me.”</p><p>Zergal nods. “Do you have any fours?”</p><p>Lucifer flipped his card to Zergal. “And the rest?”</p><p>“Letters of congratulation. On your marriage.”</p><p>Birds call and chirp in the trees. Fireflies flash in the dark night, and the soul screams as the alligator tears off an arm with a twist of its head and flings it onto the deck. Lucifer pays no attention to thump of the torn off limb. He tilts his head, and his eyes burn with the fires of Hell.</p><p>“Repeat that again… My—“</p><p>“Marriage, Lord Morningstar. All the letters are congratulations on your nuptials.”</p><p>“Explain,” he snaps.</p><p>“I don’t know, My Lord.” Zergal gestures at the letters. “I read them all. They all seem to think you’re married. There are letters from Earth, from Faerie, and even from the Cities of the Below. All are unanimous in this belief.”</p><p>“Dearie me.” He flips through the letters, horrified. There are so many. Letters from the great houses and grand families of the supernatural set. He can even see one from a family of witches who consider him a benefactor. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “What poor, unfortunate woman have they decided is the bride of Satan? Please tell me it’s not some self-styled Queen of Hell from one of the Fae households. I had a few who were visiting Lux on the regular hoping to make a match.”</p><p>“Ah,” Zergal says.</p><p>“Who is it, Zergal?”</p><p>“It appears to be the detective, my Lord.”</p><p>His face shifts. One moment, that of the archangel, the next, the red scarred monstrosity of the Devil. Zergal flinches. “What?” Lucifer thunders. His voice deepens and Hell shakes to its foundations. The birds go silent. The alligator stops, and even the screaming soul sobs in quiet terror.</p><p>“I don’t know how it came to be,” Zergal wails, holding an envelope in front of his face and tries to squash himself behind it.</p><p>“You must know something,” Lucifer growls, low and feral. “Everyone else seems to know.” He smashes his hand on the table. Letters sizzle from the heat of his anger.</p><p>Zergal’s body shakes. He squeaks, coughs, and finally says, “Some of the younger Lilim like to… commune with the earthly plane.”</p><p>“Commune,” Lucifer repeats flatly.</p><p>“They are too young to have ever possessed a body and walked the earth so they communicate with rituals.”</p><p>“And who are they communicating with?” His black fingernails scratch into the wooden table and leave long gouges in their wake. Not that it matters. This is a Hell loop. It’s ash and dust and the damned.</p><p>“Witches,” Zergal admits. “They’re pen pals. They talk back and forth. They heard it from the witches.”</p><p>“And where did the witches hear it from?”</p><p>“I, ah, am not sure. I am under the impression this rumor has been circulating for some time before Hell became aware.”</p><p>Lucifer desperately wants to unfurl his wings and fly to Earth as fast as he can. He always wants to be back on Earth. The urge to see Chloe. To look at her and know she’s okay is overwhelming. But there’s nothing he can do. Being near her won’t solve this problem. If the realms are as aware of it as Zergal says they are… there’s no containing it, and a denial is worse than an admission.</p><p>“Is it true?” Zergal asks. “Did you“—he lowers his voice and looks around the loop as if he might be overheard—“get married?”</p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lucifer snarls. “Of course we didn’t get married. We were partners. We solved murders together, and yes we could have been something more, but your siblings and their timing saw to that.” </p><p>Zergal huddles in on himself and meeps out a faint apology.</p><p>Lucifer sits back in the rickety wooden chair, puts his hands together as if he plans on praying and presses his burnt, gnarled index fingers to his nose. He could contact Amenadiel. He could even go back and explain things to the Detective. But what would it change? He still needs to oversee his demonic reprobates. Chloe is still on Earth, and if the title protects her, if he can keep her safe in this one way, what's the harm?</p><p>He’s already damned; what’s one more thing?</p><p>“Reply to the letters,” he tells Zergal. “Send my thanks for sending them.”</p><p>Zergal sticks the tip of his tongue through his missing front teeth. “Won’t they approach her?”</p><p>“I don’t see why they would.”</p><p>Something splashes nearby. The mauled soul uses his one remaining arm to pull himself to the deck of the house. His face is a mangled wreck, and blood pours from his wounds. He stops still at the sight of Lucifer in all his red-eyed, burnt glory. The soul gargles in the back of his mangled throat, and with what little strength he has, he throws himself back into the water, choosing to take his chances with the gator rather than the Devil.</p><p>The alligator rumbles and water sloshes as the soul is dragged back under.</p><p>“Just… get it sorted.” Lucifer says. “I would rather the Detective not be bothered with this nonsense.”</p><p>He stands up, adjusts his cufflinks, and stalks out of the loop, leaving the fireflies and the deep night of the Louisiana bayou behind him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Or is it Mrs. Morningstar?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chloe walks into the precinct on Friday morning, eager for the day to end. She clutches her coffee, heads for her desk, and ignores the hushed small talk of her coworkers as the morning crew filters in and the night shift heads home.</p>
<p>She’s not in the mood to talk. She never is, and her coworkers rarely attempt to engage. She’s friends with Ella because Ella has this amazing tendency to adopt people as her own, and her relationship with the precinct isn’t in tatters only because Lucifer had joined her as a consultant and weaseled his way into everyone’s good graces.</p>
<p>Because of him, she’s no longer the focus of the good-old-boys club. Their ire is directed elsewhere these days, and she’s grateful. She wishes she could tell Lucifer just how grateful.</p>
<p>Not grateful enough to marry him though. Between Dan and Marcus Pierce, her love life splashes its way across the precinct like an unstoppable wave.</p>
<p>Her computer whirs as it powers up and Chloe leans back in her chair, and stretches. Her muscles throb and twinge from the workout with Linda yesterday evening, and she’d never managed to unwind after the conversation with Padma. She stares up at the high ceiling. Lucifer as a husband would be a joke.</p>
<p>She doesn’t even want to get married again. She’s perfectly happy the way she is. She has Trixie, her job, her friends, a good co-parent in Dan. What more does she need?</p>
<p>She doesn’t <i>need</i> him. She just wants him back. She wants to wrap her arms around him and hold him, she wants to kiss him and be kissed in return. She wants to hold his hand and take him to bed, and experience that vaunted sexual prowess for herself.</p>
<p><i>Need</i>. She shakes her head. The only thing she needs is for him to be okay.</p>
<p>Her emails load and she scrolls through, reading over some of the precinct updates and filing away notes that have been held up by the backlog in the forensics office. The last email is from the law firm of C.D. Adler.</p>
<p>She sips her coffee and tries to wake up. She reads the email, and the coffee goes from delicious to tasting burnt and bitter.</p>
<p>“What the hell?” She leans forward.</p>
<p>Dan looks up from his desk under the stairs. She waves a hand, urging him to go back to work, and reads the email again, this time with more focus.</p>
<p>
  <i>Dear Ms. Decker,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I hope this email finds you in good health.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>It has recently been brought to my attention that you and my client, Lucifer Morningstar, have recently married, which therefore makes you the legal spouse of Mr. Morningstar. In the event you are unaware, my firm handles the majority of Mr. Morningstar’s legal matters, including but not limited to, his assets, trusts, commercial ventures, tax, and personal injury claims. I was quite surprised to learn he married before commencing his extended absence, and because of his absence, I was hoping you could assist me with some of the paperwork related to this marriage.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>At your earliest convenience, please send over 1) An official copy of your marriage certificate that includes the embossed state seal, as signed by the State Registrar in the applicable state in which you were married—this is so we can keep it on file; and 2) The prenuptial agreement, if any. Please note, this type of agreement does not have to be a written contract on paper. There are a variety of ways to have a valid prenuptial agreement, including oral, auditory, and on the occasion, we’ve even received a contract written on a thong, which was deemed legally binding.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I would like to schedule time to sit down and more formally discuss the particulars of your marriage and the continued management of Mr. Morningstar’s assets, to which you are now privy. Also, please accept my best wishes to you for this happy event.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Best,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Charles Dean Adler</i>
</p>
<p>This can’t be happening. This silly rumor has reached Lucifer’s lawyer? Why would he even lend it so much credence? She tries to form words, closes her mouth, hits reply all and starts typing. </p>
<p>She doesn’t get far before she’s interrupted. </p>
<p>“Caught a body, Decker. You’re up,” the Lieutenant says. He drops a note with the address on her desk.</p>
<p>She saves the email to drafts. It’s annoying having to put this aside, but catching a killer and bringing peace of mind to the loved ones left behind—that’s more important now. </p>
<p>“On it,” she says and gathers up her things.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The case is fairly open and shut. The murderer is apprehended easily enough, not counting the elbow to the face. Between restraining the suspect and the paperwork that follows, she decides to leave the email until Monday. </p>
<p>She goes home and falls into bed. It’s not like anything is going to happen between now and then, plus Trixie has surfing lessons the next morning with Dan, and she doesn’t want to miss watching. </p>
<p>These lessons were Dan’s idea. Even though Trixie is suspended for running a candy ring and fighting, Chloe doesn’t have the heart to take away Dad time. Trixie loves surfing, and she loves surfing next to Dan even more. </p>
<p>So the next morning, Chloe packs up their gear, and they head to the beach. Trixie and Dan push their boards into the ocean, laughing and joking and enjoying the beautiful day.</p>
<p>The water is cool, as the Pacific always is, but it’s refreshing rather than freezing. Chloe wades out until the water is hip height and dives into a cresting wave, coming up for air beyond the breaker line. She kicks her feet and treads water for a moment, enjoying the sound of crashing waves and crying gulls. Trixie shrieks, and Dan laughs in the distance. </p>
<p>This is exactly what she needs. A relaxing break from a high-stress job. She turns and glances at Trixie and Dan a little ways down the beach. Chloe ducks underneath the water, kicks off the sandy bottom, and enjoys the way her hair ripples behind her. She dives under again and lets herself sink.</p>
<p>Something large brushes by her leg.</p>
<p>She flails, kicks, and scrambles for the surface. Her head breaks the water, and she coughs. She panics when her head dips back below the surface, and she claws upwards, desperate for air.</p>
<p>Light filters through the water above her, but she can’t seem to reach it.</p>
<p>Something pushes her upwards. She breaks the surface, gasping, coughing, and hacking up water. She screws her eyes shut as her body heaves.</p>
<p>Regaining her equilibrium takes longer than she’d like. She pulls herself together, turns in the water, ready to thank her rescuer, whose hand hasn’t left her arm. The words die in her throat.</p>
<p>“Are you okay?” her rescuer asks.</p>
<p>Chloe blinks. Unsure if she’s really seeing this or if she’s blacked out and is hallucinating as she drowns to death.</p>
<p>Her rescuer is a woman; her skin is grayish green, and small scales speckle her face. Her hair drips down her head like wet seaweed, fanning out behind her in the water.  She waves a six-fingered webbed hand.</p>
<p>Chloe sputters and coughs.</p>
<p>A long tail slaps the water behind the woman. Her green scales glitter in the sunlight.  “It’s you,” she says. Chloe gapes. The woman makes a burbling noise, “Your child rides the waves well.” The words have a bubbling quality to them, as if they’re spoken by vocal cords that don’t particularly care for air.</p>
<p>Chloe shakes her head and manages to tread water, keeping herself steady without help. She finds her voice. “Yeah, um, she uh, takes after her dad,” she replies, unsure what to do with a mermaid trying to make polite conversation after she’d almost drowned.</p>
<p>The mermaid brightens. Her complexion flickers to a bright green. Her eyes widen, and the gills on the side of her neck flutter and make a wet sucking noise. She clasps her hands together with a wet squish. “Oh, she looks just like him.” The mermaid smiles back at Chloe, and her long tail splashes behind her. “It’s in the eyes. You should be proud. She does her Lord Father proud.”</p>
<p>Chloe shakes her head. She has no idea what’s going on. Lord Father? What is even happening?</p>
<p>“A true Princess of Hell,” the mermaid breathes, her gills fluttering as she looks beyond Chloe at Trixie on her surfboard. </p>
<p>The sudden image of Lucifer as a father hits Chloe with the weight of a freight train.  She knows she’s making a noise and shaking her head, but her brain simply can’t handle it. It’s an image that does not compute. Never mind that she’s perfectly happy with just one child, and that child is very much not Lucifer’s. There’s no way in Hell, Heaven, Earth or any other realm that she would have another baby, let alone Lucifer Morningstar's. And she knows with absolute surety that if he were here to render an opinion, he would wholly agree with her.</p>
<p>The Devil is not dad material.</p>
<p>“Are you okay?” the mermaid asks. “I’ve never heard that sound from a human before.”</p>
<p>“I’m fine.” Chloe wheezes. “Just, um, coughed on a little water.”</p>
<p>The mermaid nods. “Humans are distressingly fragile. Do you know it only takes minutes for a human to drown?” She shakes her head and her weedy hair floats around her. “Astounding.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Chloe agrees, deadpan. “Astounding.” A mermaid is making small talk with her. A mermaid thinks her daughter is the antichrist. Is antichrist even the right word? How is this her life?</p>
<p>“It was wise of Lord Satan to hide her until she was older,” the mermaid says with firm conviction.</p>
<p>“Oh, she’s not, um, his,” Chloe replies, cringing. Is this information she should be parting with? Will it put Trixie in danger if all the strange supernatural people coming out of the woodwork think she’s the Devil’s daughter? These are not questions she’s equipped to handle. All she wants is a relaxing dip in the ocean.</p>
<p>The mermaid nods. “I understand.” She screws up one side of her green face, scrunching her eye shut while the other is comically wide in an over-exaggerated attempt at a wink. She makes finger guns at Chloe, a gesture that looks out of place when delivered by a mermaid with six fingers. “I won’t tell anyone.”</p>
<p>Chloe doubts that.</p>
<p>“Mom!” Trixie shouts over the waves. “Look at me!”</p>
<p>She’s caught a wave. Trixie wobbles her way upright on the surfboard. She adjusts her weight, sticks her arms out, and looks incandescent with joy.</p>
<p>“You got this, monkey!” Chloe whoops and pumps a fist into the air. When she turns back, the mermaid is gone.</p>
<p>She paddles back to the beach, her desire to continue her swim gone. Her toes dig into the sand when she remembers the email from yesterday and how she’d never dealt with it. She’d been planning on responding Monday morning, but with the newest <i>interaction</i>, she wants to set the record straight now. </p>
<p>She plops down onto their spread out towels, opens her bags, and digs for her work phone. Extra towels, sunscreen, car keys, and a change of clothes all get tossed aside. The phone is at the bottom of the bag, buried deep so no one gets tempted to walk off with it. She thumbs open the mail app and grimaces at the ten unread emails waiting for her, one of which is a reply from the law firm of C.D. Adler thanking her for the prompt delivery of the marriage certificate and suggesting some times for her to visit the office to talk about management of Lucifer’s assets.</p>
<p>She gapes down at the message and reads it again. “But… we’re not…” Her hands shake. “There has to be some mistake.” She digs her feet into the sand. A reply was sent from her work email at 10 a.m. yesterday promising to have the documents over to the law firm by that afternoon. Chloe narrows her eyes. She didn’t send that message. She’d left the precinct just after 8 and had been at the crime scene when the message was sent. She checks her drafts folder. The denial she’d been writing was gone. Deleted. It hits her. Someone has access to her email.</p>
<p>“Mom!” Trixie shouts. She’s caught a second wave. “Look at me, Mom!”</p>
<p>Chloe waves back and squashes the urge to grab Trixie and run. She’s tried that before, and it didn’t end well.  She needs to set everything to rights. There’s no running away this time. </p>
<p>She needs to get to the bottom of this. </p>
<hr/>
<p>Chloe begs off lunch with Dan and Trixie, claiming she doesn’t want to intrude on their daddy-daughter time. She likes giving them these moments together, and there’s also no way she’d be able to sit through lunch without losing her mind.</p>
<p>Wearing a damp coverup over her swimming suit, she drives off with her hair still wet and sand between her toes. She can feel the grains rubbing every time she puts pressure on the gas or brake pedal.</p>
<p>She has a hunch where the marriage certificate and email came from, and if she’s right…</p>
<p>Maze’s motorcycle is parked in front of Linda’s house, and relief washes over Chloe. She can get this over with without having to track down a demon bounty hunter. She throws the car into park, storms up the walkway and pounds on Linda’s door. “Maze,” she shouts, “I need to talk to you.”</p>
<p>The door opens, and Maze grins at her with a shark’s smile. “Better be glad Linda’s out with Charlie. No one messes with nap time.” She lounges against the doorway, arms crossed and knives in hand.</p>
<p>“Do you have access to my email?” Chloe demands. Maze’s scarred eyebrow quirks. She doesn’t say a word, just flicks her knife. Chloe knows a confirmation when she sees one. “So you do. That’s proprietary LAPD information, Maze. You shouldn’t have access.”</p>
<p>“Oh, please, fuck the Head of IT and you can have access to anything. He was practically begging me to let him put your email on my phone after I was done with him.”</p>
<p>“Maze! You... you can’t just…”</p>
<p>“What? Had to keep track of you somehow.” She pushes herself upright and pokes Chloe in the chest with a finger, the knife in her palm angled towards her wrist. “Tell me, Decker, what can I not do?”</p>
<p>“Meddle in my life!” Chloe shouts. “Why would you even do that, besides having my email on your phone, which could get me fired, why would you… forge a marriage certificate and send it to Lucifer’s lawyer?”</p>
<p>“Easy. The marriage certificate part was simple; even got it filed with the county.” Maze leers. “You’re welcome, Mrs. Morningstar.”</p>
<p>“Please tell me you didn’t file the name change paperwork.”</p>
<p>“All filled out and ready to go.” She crosses her arms. “All I have to do is turn it in.”  </p>
<p>Fury infuses her, and the urge to tear Maze to shreds wells up. Maze knows how important her dad is to her. “Why?” Chloe snarls, on the verge of tears. “Maze, why would you do this?”</p>
<p>“Lighten up, Decker; it’s a joke. You’ve sucked to be around. Thought this might make you laugh.” </p>
<p>“You started the rumors,” Chloe states, radiating with fury. </p>
<p>“I did,” Maze confirms. “It was a mistake at first. I was drunk at a vampire bar on Wilcox."  </p>
<p>"Vampire bar?" Chloe says and can’t believe this is an actual thing that exists and not some themed goth bar where they dress in black and drink red cocktails. </p>
<p>Maze huffs out a harsh laugh. “So sue me if I sometimes want some blood in my drink. I didn’t mean for all of Los Angeles to get it twisted up in their screwy heads that Lucifer had married you. But they did, and it’s perfect for a laugh.”</p>
<p>Chloe clenches her fists and grinds her teeth. “My life is not a joke, Maze. You don’t get to… meddle around in it just because you find it boring.”</p>
<p>“What? I was helping you out.” </p>
<p>“No, you were having fun at my expense. Figure out your shit Maze and quit messing in mine. This is beyond the pale. You don’t get to marry me and Lucifer off for funsies. Do you have ANY idea how much time and money this is gonna take to straighten out?”</p>
<p>Maze shrugs. </p>
<p>The nonchalant move has Chloe seeing red. “Time and money I don’t have Maze.” She takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of her nose. “This has gone well beyond a joke, Maze. Take my email off of your phone. I’ve got to figure all of this out, and I can’t have you snooping on LAPD affairs.”</p>
<p>“You gonna make me?”</p>
<p>“If you don’t, I’m going to talk to the Head of IT and get your access revoked. As for everything else… I think I need space. Please don’t come near me and Trixie.”</p>
<p>“What?” Maze rears back, surprised. “You’d keep Trixie from me?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I would, since you can’t be trusted to handle your issues like an adult. Actions have consequences, Maze. These are the consequences.”</p>
<p>“Fine, your <i>highness</i>.” Maze retreats into the house and slams the door.</p>
<p>Chloe blows a breath out from between her teeth and heads back to her car. Her fingers shake as she starts the ignition. </p>
<p>She doesn't get far before she pulls over into an empty parking lot. She rests her head against the steering wheel and cries.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Charles Adler’s office isn’t what Chloe expected. She parks under an old palm tree and glances out at the rundown strip center. Heat shimmers in the air, and next door, a long line winds through the In-N-Out drive-thru. She watches it idly, wishing she could ditch her responsibilities and bury herself in fries and a double double animal style.</p>
<p>She doesn’t want to be here.</p>
<p>Speaking with Lucifer’s lawyer and trying to clean up this mess is the last thing she wants to do. Even thinking about it gives her the beginnings of a headache. What’s she going to say? “Sorry, Lucifer’s demonic former bartender is torturing me by faking my marriage with the Devil?”</p>
<p>How did one begin to explain that?</p>
<p>“No time like the present,” Chloe murmurs to her reflection in the rearview mirror. She runs a hand over her tight bun, adjusts her blouse, and heads inside.</p>
<p>The office itself is tastefully decorated with plush couches and abstract artwork. It’s comfortable, or at least as comfortable as a lawyer’s office can be. The urge to run away screaming intensifies.</p>
<p>“Chloe Decker to see Charles Adler,” she tells the receptionist, reminding herself she’s made of stronger stuff. No running away for her. “I have an appointment.”</p>
<p>The young woman’s eyes widen, and she jumps to her feet. “Right through here,” she says, opening the connecting door and ushering Chloe through. “Mr. Adler cleared his afternoon for you.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m sure that wasn’t necessary,” Chloe replies. Her palms are clammy. She hadn’t planned on this taking more than an hour. What was she walking into?</p>
<p>“Ms. Decker,” Charles says, holding out a hand. He’s an older man. Gray hair cut close to a balding head, pudge around his middle. He has a nice face, Chloe decides. Clear blue eyes and an easy smile. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Mr. Morningstar has spoken so highly of you.”</p>
<p>“Oh, he, um, has?” Chloe replies. She settles into a chair at the enormous conference table. It’s covered in paperwork. She grimaces and hopes that isn’t everything Charles plans on going over, because if it is, she can see why he cleared his schedule.</p>
<p>“Can’t shut up about you. Quite frankly, it’s rather endearing.”</p>
<p>She doesn’t know what to say to that. Lucifer talking about her in such glowing terms to people she doesn’t know is always unexpected. She’s just Chloe Decker, nothing special about her, but here she is, about to spill her guts about her fake marriage to the Devil’s lawyer.</p>
<p>Charles shuffles through a stack of paper and pulls out the forged marriage certificate. Chloe stares. It looks like the real deal. Maze’s forgery skills are second to none if this is what she can create in such a short amount of time. Chloe’s signature at the bottom looks perfect. It’s uncanny.</p>
<p>“I’ve represented Lucifer for years,” Charles says. He cocks his head. “I’m taking a stab in the dark. You’re familiar with his past. The job he did?” Charles's eyes are serious. Chloe can feel the unspoken question and knows without a shadow of a doubt that Lucifer’s lawyer knows the score.</p>
<p>“He’s the Devil,” Chloe whispers into the silence of the conference room, like it’s a great secret. “The actual Devil.”</p>
<p>“I thought you would know. It’s ah, not something most people take seriously, but I’d hoped this wouldn’t be too much of a surprise considering your marital state.”</p>
<p>“—about that,” Chloe tries to say but her lips won’t form the words.</p>
<p>“Let me give you a little background on my firm first. This is a family business. Lucifer has been a client of mine, my father, my father’s father, and his father all the way back to merry old England and probably before. Generations of Adlers have studied law in order to manage the Devil’s business.” He chuckles. “My daughter Ashley—you met her outside—she’s working her way through law school now, following in her old man’s footsteps. I thought it would be my son originally, but he wants to be a veterinarian.”</p>
<p>“My daughter wanted to be a veterinarian,” Chloe admits, relaxing just a bit. “Then she decided President of Mars was more lucrative.”</p>
<p>“Trixie, right?” Chloe nods. “Lucifer talked about her too. The ‘sticky-fingered urchin’ he called her, but I could tell he was fond.” He chuckles. “In fact, that’s a good place to start.” He plucks a stack of papers off the desk and shuffles through them. “You can tell me all about this marriage of yours, but the reason I took it at face value, besides Lucifer’s high praise, is this.” He slides the papers over.</p>
<p>Despite her reservations, despite the fact that they did not get married and she needs to tell Charles this right now, Chloe opens the folder and looks. Her eyes widen, and shock courses through her.</p>
<p>“It’s a trust. Set up under Trixie’s name as the beneficiary. Enough to pay for college wherever she wants to go and all the extras that come along with that.” He whistles. “Do you know how much vet school is? It’s not cheap, let me tell you that, but being the Devil’s lawyer has its perks.”</p>
<p>“He did this for Trixie?” Chloe asks, her mouth dry at the number of zeros on the page. </p>
<p>Charles nods. "A few years ago, in fact. I think it was a few months after he started consulting with the LAPD."</p>
<p>She looks at the dates, and sure enough, he’s right. The account was set up shortly after Trixie was kidnapped by Malcolm. She purses her lips together and sniffs. He did this for her. For Trixie, and she didn’t even know. They’d been so early in their partnership.</p>
<p>“Oh no now, no crying—we’ve got a ways to go yet, Ms. Decker.” He plucks some tissues from the box and hands them over. “Or is it Mrs. Morningstar?”</p>
<p>“Decker,” Chloe replies, kicking herself for going along with this charade but unable to stop herself in the face of Charles Adler’s overwhelming positivity.</p>
<p>“Smart, smart. I’ve told Ashley she’s keeping her family name if she wants to take over the business. Never smart for a woman, or anyone, to use a married name as their professional one. I’ve seen too many nasty divorces in my time.”</p>
<p>Chloe’s laugh is normal, there’s no tinge of mania to it at all, she’s absolutely sure of that.</p>
<p>Charles plucks the papers detailing Trixie’s trust out of Chloe’s hands and sets them to one side. “So, tell me how this all came about.”</p>
<p>“Uh.” Her mind buzzes and words fail her. She needs to tell him, but her tongue doesn’t want to work.</p>
<p>“Lucifer leaving must have been quite the shock,” Charles says. His tone is understanding and kind, as if he misses Lucifer too and just wants to talk with someone about him. “From the way he talked, you two were almost always together.” He laughs. “I know about Eve, but the only time I met her was when she accompanied Lucifer to Jamie’s birthday party, and even then the praise wasn’t nearly as effusive. Nice girl—” He shakes his head and looks dumbfounded. “I say girl, but... she’s the mother of humanity. Although there’s definitely an innocence about her I didn’t expect. Maybe innocence isn’t the right word. Naivety?”</p>
<p>“It was hard to dislike her,” Chloe murmurs.</p>
<p>“It certainly was. But he never spoke about Eve like he spoke about you.”</p>
<p>Guilt and fear and loss well up within her. She looks at her lap and twists her fingers together. “Everything happened so fast,” she says. “At the end. One thing after another, and then he was gone.”</p>
<p>“I have to say I’m grateful to him,” Charles replies. “As much as I’ll miss shooting the shit with the Devil himself. When I saw the headlines about the Mayan and then Lucifer disappearing shortly after— well, I can put two and two together.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. It was—not good.”</p>
<p>They lapse into silence. The aftermath of the Mayan had been bad. Bad being too light a word to encompass the horror. Corpses everywhere, twisted together in piles, and the LAPD barely knew where to start sorting. Thankfully the feds had swooped in and the massacre wasn’t an issue for the local police any longer.</p>
<p>“Speaking of trust,” Charles says, shaking Chloe out of her thoughts. “Lucifer set up a trust for his nephew as well. I’m not sure of the baby’s name. It was set up well before the birth. You wouldn’t have to do much. Really, it’s going to sit there accruing interest until the child is a legal adult, but I’ll leave it up to you to inform the parents of its existence.”</p>
<p>Chloe nods and swallows, her throat tight. Her silly thoughtful Devil. Looking out for everyone but himself. She tries not to think about Hell. Tries not to think about how lonely he must be down with the damned and the demons, but she can’t stop herself. His family is here. She is here. And she’s never going to see him again.</p>
<p>She thinks sometimes about what it would mean to go to Hell after she dies. That maybe it would be okay because they’d be together. But she can’t do that to him. He’d given up so much. So she’s going to live, and she’s going to see her father again, and she’s going to miss Lucifer every day of her existence.</p>
<p>Charles keeps talking, and the more he talks, the more Chloe doesn’t want to tell him that this is all some big mistake perpetuated by a surly demon.</p>
<p>She wants this to be real.</p>
<p>The trusts for Trixie and Charlie are set up. Their futures are seen to. Nothing has to change if the world thinks she and Lucifer are married.</p>
<p>It’s one little lie. That’s all.</p>
<p>Charles slides a stack of papers over to Chloe. “Lucifer has an accountant that’s worked with him, oh, since the seventies I think. It’s difficult to fly under the governmental radar so it’s best just to be upfront about it. I’m sure you’ll meet him at some point, older guy now. His son is also looking to take over. I had him send some information on Lucifer’s financials.” He taps the papers with his index finger. “This is a brief overview of the current state of his accounts. Checking, savings, credit cards, investment accounts, stock, properties, jewelry, art.”</p>
<p>Chloe pulls the stack of papers closer and gulps. The stack is thick, and her brain can’t quite comprehend the number of zeros she’s looking at on the first page. “It’s… a lot,” she admits.</p>
<p>“Easy to garner wealth when you’re immortal. He’s been investing since investing became a thing. I’d hold it against him, but.” He shrugs as if to say, “he’s the Devil, what can you do?”</p>
<p>He pushes another stack across the desk. “These are the properties and art acquisitions. Anything of value.”</p>
<p>Chloe plucks a folder off the top and flips it open. She’s greeted with photos of a sprawling Tuscan Villa.</p>
<p>Charles chuckles. “A gift from the Medicis. Can you believe it?”</p>
<p>The next folder: a New York City penthouse. Soaring glass windows and a view of the city that must have cost a fortune, and judging by its current estimated value, it had.</p>
<p>She flips through more folders: a castle in Austria, the house in the hills where Lucifer took the fake Sinnerman, a vineyard in South Africa.</p>
<p>The one after that: Chloe’s apartment complex.</p>
<p>She stares, uncomprehending.</p>
<p>“This is my apartment,” Chloe says after a long pause. “Why does he own my apartment?”</p>
<p>Charles leans over and laughs. “That one is a funny story. The lady who owned it willed it to him when she passed. Something about the best night of her life.”</p>
<p>That isn’t something Chloe is remotely prepared to contemplate. She stares at the paperwork and really, really tries not to think about what that means. Her previous landlady had been ancient and had died shortly after Chloe had moved in.</p>
<p>They sit in awkward silence before Charles shifts and fiddles with another sheaf of documents. “Donations,” he says weakly and pats the stack. “Good for tax write offs. Lucifer was picky about the charities he supported, and all of the donations are made withholding his name. He didn’t want his reputation sullied.” This stack is a bit more palatable.  She flips through documents for the Matthew Shepherd Foundation, The Trevor Project, Los Angeles Youth Network, The Satanic Temple, LGBTQ Fund, and Musicians Support, amongst others.</p>
<p>“He gave extensively to individuals as well. He delighted in funding people’s education and artistic endeavors.”</p>
<p>“This is… so much.”</p>
<p>“This is the tip of the iceberg, Ms. Decker. All these documents are for you to take home and look over. I would advise getting a safe to keep them secure, not that anyone who knows would try stealing from the Devil. But it doesn’t hurt to be safe—pun intended. Now, let’s work out what you want as a monthly stipend…”</p>
<p>“But we haven’t been married that long.” She cringes at the lie.</p>
<p>“True, but you were already earmarked as the recipient of Lucifer’s wealth should anything happen to him.” Charles leans forward, deeply serious. “Look, Chloe, Lucifer isn’t the marrying kind. You know what he’s like. He parties, he sleeps around, he does drugs and drinks way too much. But he’s been different since he met you.” Chloe opens her mouth to object, but Charles waves a hand. “Oh, he had his moments, believe me. But when you came into his life, things changed, and if anything happened, he wanted to make sure you were taken care of. That’s why I took the news of your marriage seriously. If he was going to marry anyone, it would be you.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Chloe says. She fiddles with the papers in front of her, trying not to look at the numbers. “I really. I mean, I’m good. I have a job. I do okay. I don’t need Lucifer’s money.”</p>
<p>His smile is kind. “I know you didn’t marry Lucifer for his money, but let’s take a break for lunch. I think you might need to process. When we come back, let’s discuss what charities you’d like to donate to. Lucifer has his favorites, but I imagine you might have opinions of your own.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Chloe says meekly, feeling overwhelmed and slightly sick. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”</p>
<p>She gathers her things, heads out of the office in a daze, and walks straight into In-N-Out.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“I have questions,” one of Lucifer’s demons says.</p>
<p>“Goodness, that’s new.” Lucifer shoves open the door to a hell loop and peeks inside. The damned soul screams and gibbers something about birds. Lucifer wrinkles his nose and backs out. He can’t quite put his finger on what torture he’s in the mood for today. Nothing seems compelling.</p>
<p>He stuffs his hands back in his pockets and ambles down the corridor. The demon shuffles along behind.</p>
<p>“We would like to know the proper way of referring to our new queen.” Something thumps onto the ground. The demon grumbles and stops to pick up an arm that has fallen off. He jams it back into the socket, glares at it as if the arm is going to be in deep trouble if it falls off again, and blinks rheumy eyes at Lucifer. “Should we refer to her as Queen Detective? Or is she Lady Detective? Oh! Lady Morningstar!”</p>
<p>“She’s alive,” Lucifer points out. His demons won’t meet Chloe, so he isn’t sure why this is an issue. She’s going to the Silver City someday. He won’t stand to have her in Hell amongst the damned. He’ll tear down the walls of Heaven if it means securing her place there.</p>
<p>“We’ve never had a queen before.” The demon eyes Lucifer as if he has something to admit but is afraid to say. Lucifer raises an eyebrow, slightly intrigued. The demon’s arm wobbles in the socket as he huffs out a breath, sending the ash in the air spiraling. He finally admits, “We like Lady Detective. It’s what we’ve been calling her.” The demon perks up. “Aizig has an eye for fashion and has drafted a number of dresses. She pulled some of the damned with a talent for it and has them working in a sweatshop. We could, ah, show you. That is if you want. It’s a gift for the new queen.” It’s a shy observation, said almost sweetly, and it stops Lucifer in his tracks.</p>
<p>The demon trips and sprawls into the ash. Lucifer looks down at the simpering demon. “You don’t even know her. Why are you doing this?”</p>
<p>The demon’s arm falls off.</p>
<p>He picks himself up using his one good arm and gapes at Lucifer. “I—ah, um.” The demon coughs. “You light up when you think about her,” the demon says, sounding a bit faint at having Lucifer’s full attention.</p>
<p>“That is absurd,” Lucifer replies. He knew the news of his supposed nuptials was going to spread like fire once Zergal sent the letters back. He didn’t expect his demons to latch onto the idea as strongly as they have. Chloe is—was—his partner. He’d left her his earthly assets. He couldn’t leave without ensuring she and the spawn would be well taken care of for the rest of their mortal lives. A few months have passed on Earth by now. He expects Charles will reach out to her shortly. His departure for hell was unexpected, but he’d planned ahead. He’d made the arrangements shortly after her poisoning, unable to think about what would happen if his vulnerability and lack of wings meant he couldn’t find his way back to her side.</p>
<p>He is her partner. It’s his duty to watch her back. Just as she’d watched his. If he can’t be by her side, he will use his enormous wealth and influence to ensure her safety.</p>
<p>If it means his demons are more inclined to fawn over her… well, as long as they don’t try to meet the detective in person, he doesn’t see the harm in letting their imaginations run wild. They are contained in Hell. They can’t do anything, not with him here.</p>
<p>Lucifer turns on his heel and starts walking. The demon scoops up his fallen arm and scampers after him.</p>
<p>“Will you come see?” the demon asks. “The gifts we have made for the queen?”</p>
<p>The demon says it so earnestly, as if these gifts are something Chloe will accept someday.</p>
<p>She doesn’t deserve to be here, amongst the ash and the damned.</p>
<p>She will never deal with his demonic subjects. That’s his role to play. So he adjusts his cufflinks, smiles and agrees to see what his demons have come up with.</p>
<p>It can’t be that bad. And Chloe will never know.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I forgot to mention and thank Spirantizaton in my author's notes on Chapter 1. <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/21335119">Conversations with Mara</a> definitely influenced some of my thinking on the yoga scene. It's such a lovely fic. I highly recommend.</p>
<p>And big shout outs to Matches who let me run away with the idea that Lucifer owns Chloe's apartment. I read <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22597600">Hells to Betsy</a> and it was just like HEADCANON ACCEPTED. </p>
<p>Big thanks to both of them for letting me play in their sandboxes a bit.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Stock options for Pixies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Exhausted doesn’t begin to cover how tired Chloe is. She drags herself toward the house and thinks wistfully about throwing herself into bed. Her newest case isn’t as straightforward as she’d originally thought, and her lunch had been overtaken by Lucifer’s financials. She’d propped files against the steering wheel and plowed through a salad between interviews.</p><p>She pushes the door open, not paying too much attention as she rifles through her purse for money to give Trixie’s babysitter. Trixie’s suspension is over soon, and Chloe’s looking forward to having Trixie back to school full time.</p><p>Something collides with her head.</p><p>She stumbles back.</p><p>A winged creature about the size of her forearm flutters its dragonfly wings and chitters. It’s orange and human-shaped, if a bit skinny and elongated. Delicate fingers curl on its tiny hands as it shakes an angry fist at her. Chloe blinks, tears her gaze away from the orange creature, and looks around the room. Two other creatures flit to and fro, carting what looks like the contents of her kitchen.</p><p>“What the hell—“ Chloe mutters. Her kitchen and living room have been turned into a production line. One creature flutters about the oven, turning knobs and checking bubbling pots, while another ices cookies.</p><p>A tiny man, only about two feet in height with an askew red cap on his head, stands on a stool at her sink. He dips a sponge in the soapy water and scrubs a dirty dish. A small bowl of milk sits to his right. </p><p>The winged orange creature that had rebounded off her head stares at her with beetle black eyes. It opens its tiny mouth, its skin shimmering to light puce, and keens.</p><p>The reaction is instantaneous.</p><p>The creatures shriek and shimmer, their wings buzzing. The little man by the sink curses and slips; the bowl of milk clatters to the floor and milk spreads out in a messy puddle.</p><p>“Hey,” Trixie shouts. She stomps in from the living room, loaded down with boxes. Anna, her babysitter, trails after her. The creatures stop shimmering, and the little man clasps his hat. "Don't damage the merchandise!" Trixie says. She glares at the little creatures as they bow their heads and flutter their wings.</p><p>"Trixie!" Chloe snaps, her heart sinking into her stomach. “<i>What</i> is going on?”</p><p>“Hi, Mom.” Trixie smiles brightly. The kind of smile she sends Chloe’s way when she’s guilty and knows it. “We started a candy business!”</p><p>She shoves the boxes onto the kitchen table, and the little creatures are on them in seconds.  “These are samples,” she says. “Some stores are interested, so we put sample boxes together. It’s so cool, Mom.”</p><p>“Who is we?” Chloe asks, glaring at Trixie’s babysitter. Anna is a young woman in her mid-twenties, tall and blonde with a propensity toward flowing skirts. She’d come well recommended by a coworker and was willing to work with Chloe on price. Until today she’s considered her just a normal struggling college student, but now Chloe is beginning to wonder.  </p><p>Anna ducks her head and avoids meeting Chloe’s eyes, an admission of guilt if she’s ever seen one. </p><p>“It was my idea, Mom,” Trixie says. She glances back at her babysitter, squares her shoulders, and puts her hands on her hips. “The business was my idea and Anna went along with it, 'cause, well, she had to, because I’m a princess.” </p><p>“Yeah, that’s not going to fly. You could be President of Mars, and I’d still expect you to do as you're told.” </p><p>“You didn’t tell me not to start a business,” Trixie points out.</p><p>Trixie looks so earnest, and Chloe can see her daughter digging her heels in, ready to fight for this strange little business Chloe had walked into. Chloe knows she’s not the best mom, she tries, but with work, it’s difficult sometimes to be everything she thinks Trixie needs. She wakes up in the middle of the night thinking about it sometimes, kicking herself for every decision she’s made that put Trixie in danger or led to breaking a promise. </p><p>“That’s not the point, Trixie. Something could have happened to you. You could have been hurt. There are all these—beings in my kitchen, and I don’t even know who they are.” </p><p>Trixie sets her jaw and says, “It was fine, Mom. Anna was with me.” </p><p>“About that,” Chloe replies. She glances over at Anna, who’s backed so far into the kitchen that she looks like she’s trying to merge with the oven. “If she’s out of line, tell her no. Don’t let her pull one over on you.” She narrows her eyes. “Although I’m guessing you’re not exactly human if you actually believed her.” </p><p>Anna nods and hunches in on herself, her terror at being found out a real and palpable thing. “Okay,” Chloe says. She accidentally hired a supernatural babysitter who knows just enough to think that Trixie is the Devil’s step-daughter and to let herself be bossed around by a precocious eleven year old with aspirations towards royalty. “I think you and I need to sit down and have a talk, Anna. And, monkey, you’re not a princess. You can’t just boss your babysitter around.” </p><p>“You’re the Queen of Hell,” Trixie points out. The little creatures flutter and chirp behind Trixie.</p><p>“Who told you that?” Chloe demands. It should be obvious how Trixie knows about it, now that she sees all the supernatural creatures packed into her kitchen, but she had hoped Trixie wouldn’t find out.</p><p>“Brac showed up and told me,” Trixie says, gesturing at the little man by the sink. He’s taken his hat off and clutches it to his chest. When Chloe looks at him, he meeps and tries to hide behind it, which means she has two supernatural people cowering in her kitchen now. “He’s a brownie! He used to work for Lucifer, and when he heard that you two had gotten married, he came to work for you!” She levels a biting look at Chloe. “Why didn’t you tell me you and Lucifer got married? I like Lucifer, and now he’s my step-dad and you didn’t even tell me!” </p><p>Chloe rubs her hands over her face. This isn't what she expected to walk into tonight. All she wants is a relaxing evening with a cheap glass of wine, and instead she has a house stuffed with supernatural creatures and an angry daughter.</p><p>It’s too much. She wants to stumble her way up the stairs, fall into bed, and never get out.</p><p>But she’s a parent first.</p><p>“Okay,” Chloe says, rubbing her temples and kissing her bed goodbye. “Let’s just… let’s just sit down and figure this out.”</p>
<hr/><p>Trixie’s business may have started as illicit Japanese candy sold out of a school locker, but it certainly isn’t that anymore. The plans she details for Chloe have the makings of a burgeoning candy empire.</p><p>There’s an entire box of documents under her bed, and she lays them out for Chloe with pride, walking her through her plans for Trixie and Pixie’s.</p><p>“I’ve got the money for the LLC filing fee, and we’re almost there for the franchise tax,” Trixie says the words like they’re a foreign language and she’s proud of pronouncing them right. “We googled how to set a business up!” </p><p>“You and the <i>pixies</i>?” </p><p>“Yup.” Trixie beams, but Chloe doesn’t miss the way she’s tapping her foot against her chair. “I’d need an adult to help me set it up.” She points to a stack of papers. “These are orders. We’ve got them with a few different Los Angeles stores. They’re gonna start carrying our candy.” She wiggles in her chair. “It’s so cool.”</p><p>“Trixie, babe, you’ve been out of school for two weeks. How—”</p><p>“It came together really fast, Mom, and all the stores I went to with Anna were really interested.” Trixie leans forward and whispers. “She knows people.” </p><p>“Okay, and this candy,” Chloe says. “Where’s it coming from?”</p><p>“We’re making the candy, Mom.”</p><p>Chloe narrows her eyes. “And you’re using my kitchen to make this candy?”</p><p>“It’s just the test kitchen. Like on Bon Appétit. The pixies don’t have their own space, so I let them use Lucifer’s kitchen.”</p><p>Chloe gapes. “Trixie, babe, first, that’s breaking and entering, and second Lucifer went back to Hell. There’s a lock on the penthouse elevator."</p><p>“Everyone knows he went back to Hell, Mom. You don’t have to tell me,” Trixie says in such a matter-of-fact way it sucks the air from Chloe’s lungs. “He told me I could come to his place when I needed to, so that’s like an open invitation.” She lowers her voice as if she’s imparting some great secret. “The penthouse isn’t hard to get into. The elevator code is my birthday.”</p><p>Chloe hadn’t known that. She hasn’t been to Lux since he left her with a kiss and a flurry of feathers. She wishes he was here so she could wrap her arms around him and thank him for being such a silly, sentimental Devil. Instead, she rubs her eyes and says, “Spell this out for me, Trixie. What is going on?”</p><p>“Okay. So. Brac showed up a few weeks ago and told me everything. Lucifer going back to Hell, you marrying him without <i>telling me</i>.” Chloe grimaces. “Brac saw all the candy I had stashed and said he knew some pixies who are super into candy, so he introduced us. The pixies are candy makers—it’s their trade—and they’ve been wanting to get into the human market, but they couldn’t find a partner to go in with them. They’re pretty young too,” Trixie adds. “I think they’re around my age, maybe a little older. We haven’t quite figured it out.” </p><p>“You went into business with preadolescent pixies.” Chloe states.</p><p>“Yeah, they’re so cool, Mom.” Trixie looks at her friends with a delighted smile. They buzz their wings, and their black eyes shine in the dim light of the kitchen. “Anyway, they needed a place to make candy, and I had a place and I like to make candy. It’s a mutually beneficial”—she says the words like they carry great weight—“relationship.”</p><p>“You’ve gone into business with creatures who technically shouldn’t exist, and you’re using the Devil’s kitchen for production.” Chloe laughs, because the other option is to cry. “It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s all normal. What is even happening?”</p><p>“Mom?” Trixie asks, a note of concern in her voice.</p><p>Chloe brushes her hands over her face and tries to hold herself together. She’s so tired, and it's the little moments like these where Lucifer’s absence hits the hardest. “It’s okay, baby.” She breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth. “And you’re already moving candy into stores?”</p><p>Trixie nods. “The pixies had a lot stashed. We packaged them up nice, and then Anna and I brought them around town. You’d love it. We’ve been making this really cool chocolate mouse that wiggles its sugar whiskers when you’re not looking straight at it.”</p><p>“Oh, that sounds… normal.”</p><p>“And the pixies have a friend who wants to sell her candy in America, so we’re bringing her in with us. She’s a Yōkai.” Trixie pauses at Chloe’s blank look. “Japanese spirits, Mom. You need to know this stuff.”</p><p>“I need to, huh?”</p><p>The look Trixie shoots her is scathing.</p><p>"Anyways,” Trixie says, “Amazake-babaa is a Yōkai who got totally into making candy. She’s not interested in marketing it herself, but she wants to do something with it, so we worked out a deal with her for American, um, what’s the word I’m looking for?” She looks over at the three pixies who chirp and shrug and buzz their wings.</p><p>“Distribution,” Chloe supplies, grateful they’re talking about candy and not drugs. </p><p>“Yeah. That. We bring the candy in and get it into stores. Amazake-babaa just shipped us the samples. We’ve totally got a contract lined up if it works out.” Trixie leans forward. “She makes candy with sake.”</p><p>“That’s great, Trixie, but you’re a minor. You can’t sign contracts and have them be legally binding.”</p><p>“But I promised, and if I don’t keep my promise, she’ll give me chickenpox,” Trixie says with mounting horror. “And Lucifer always said your word is your bond.”</p><p>The three pixies nod.</p><p>“Baby,” Chloe replies, “you’re vaccinated.”</p><p>“Try telling Amazake-babaa that,” Trixie shoots back. “I’m not gonna cross an angry Yōkai mom!”</p><p>The little man, who Trixie had called Brac earlier, drops a dish into the sink and grumbles under his breath. He doffs his hat and bows when he notices Chloe’s attention on him.</p><p>"And these are your... employees?" Chloe asks.</p><p>Trixie nods and slides a thick stack of paper over to Chloe. "We worked out contract details. They get a $15 minimum wage, sick time, vacation time, and benefits. Stock options too if we can take this public down the road."</p><p>"Stock options," Chloe repeats. "For pixies."</p><p>The three little pixies shimmer and preen, clearly pleased with themselves.  </p><p>"And you’re making candy as well as importing and distributing candy from Azake-baa?”</p><p>Trixie rolls her eyes and Chloe bites down on her irritation. "Amazake-babaa, Mom. Names are important, especially in the supernatural community. You need to get them right. It's a sign of respect."</p><p>"I didn't realize you were an expert on the supernatural community," Chloe replies.</p><p>"I pay attention, Mom. I knew Lucifer was the Devil way before you did. And whenever he and Maze talked about running Lux, I listened. I mean, I can't get away with what he does, but he's the Devil.” She shrugs and pats the stack of paper next to her. “Contracts are important, and you need to be sure you read every line. Treat your employees right, and they'll treat you right, and honor your obligations." She says it like she’s parroting someone else, and Chloe’s heart feels like it’s being squeezed in a vise. Trixie rests her chin on her hands. “You know, I’m kinda glad I got suspended. I wouldn’t have had time to get this started if I was stuck in school all day.”</p><p>She pulls a sheaf of papers from the pile. "We’re even working on a deal with Lux. Alcoholic candies are a big thing right now. "</p><p>Maze’s signature slashes the bottom of the page and is big enough Chloe doesn’t need Trixie to hand the document over. Seeing that signature makes her feel like she’s chewing glass. Trixie and Maze are close, and this falling out has been rough on Trixie. Chloe had told Maze to give them time and yet they’d clearly met up at some point if Maze was signing business contracts with Trixie. </p><p>She knows Trixie isn’t her little baby anymore. She’s on the cusp of becoming a teenager. She is everything Chloe had ever hoped for: enthusiastic, confident, intelligent, funny. Chloe looks at her some days and wants to burst into tears with pride.</p><p>So she bites her tongue. She’s scared and worried. Entering into contracts with supernatural creatures seems like an enormously bad idea.</p><p>She reaches for another document, this one the employment contract for the pixies. Trixie clearly downloaded it off the internet and then modified the text for supernatural employees. Chloe raises her eyebrows as she reads. It’s generous and favors the pixies, but one paragraph has her re-reading.</p><p>"After five years of service on the part of the Employed, the Employer agrees that a favor of the Employed's choosing shall henceforth be owed to the Employed by the sire/father/sovereign of the Employer, to be called in at a time convenient to the Employed irrespective of the passage of time."</p><p>The throbbing in her head intensifies as she glares at the three pixies. They chirp and make high-pitched buzzing noises with their wings.</p><p>“You do realize you signed a contract with a minor?”</p><p>The largest of the pixies chitters back at her, the orange pixie she’d bumped into earlier. He—she’s not sure it’s a he. Or maybe pixie’s don’t have gender. Is thinking of them as he impolite?— flashes green-veined wings and fires off a series of rapid chirps. Chloe glares, and the pixie gives in. Their lean body hunches forward as they bow their head low in acknowledgement.</p><p>Chloe sets the contract aside. “If you’re going to do this, we’re going to sit down with Lucifer’s lawyer”—she points at Trixie and her pixie friends in turn— “and negotiate these contracts so it's fair for everyone. I won’t have Trixie’s age and inexperience taken advantage of.” She really hopes Charles has some experience in supernatural employment disputes because how in the world is she going to find a lawyer who believes her and is able to negotiate on Trixie’s behalf?</p><p>Trixie goes stiff and still across from her, as if she can’t believe Chloe took her side. Seeing her daughter so disbelieving hurts her heart.</p><p>“This is a lot, Monkey,” Chloe tells her, feeling her throat start to close. “It’s clear you put a lot of love and hard work into this. But you’re eleven, and it’s my job to look out for you. So, let’s talk to the lawyer, get everything figured out, and I’ll go in on this with you. All I ask is that you’re honest with me. And,” she finishes. “I want to see the setup in Lucifer’s kitchen before we sign anything. You can’t just… break in and use someone else’s stuff.”</p><p>The smile that blooms across Trixie’s face makes it all worth it. It reminds her of the sun: big and bright and glorious.</p>
<hr/><p>Chloe doesn’t see Maze until Trixie’s first day back to school after her suspension.</p><p>She drops Trixie off, tells her to be good and stay out of fights. Trixie grins, the bright easy smile of a child who’s managed to start a business and negotiate lucrative contracts with boutique stores throughout Los Angeles.</p><p>Trixie disappears into the building and Chloe crosses her fingers on the steering wheel, hoping she won’t be called into the Principal’s office anytime soon, if ever again.</p><p>A flash of black leather catches her eye.</p><p>She leans forward, wrinkles her nose, and peers through the windshield, and sure enough, there’s Maze. She’s lurking on the other side of the playground, her eyes on the front door. “What the hell, Maze?” Chloe grumbles to herself. She shifts the car into drive, navigates out of the school parking lot and parks her car a little ways down the road. Out of sight of the playground.</p><p>Maze isn’t hard to find when Chloe circles back around on foot. She’s loitering behind a large oak tree, peaking out towards the school.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Chloe asks. She crosses her arms and taps her foot.</p><p>Maze turns slowly, like a shark in the water, and her smile is an insincere slash across her face. “Oh, hey, Chloe. Didn’t know you’d be here.”</p><p>“This is my daughter’s school, Maze. I think the question is, why are you here?”</p><p>“It’s public property; I can be wherever I want.” She juts out her jaw and places her hands on her hips. Her knives are nowhere to be seen, but Chloe knows she’ll have them out in a flash if she feels like it.</p><p>“I asked you to stay away from Trixie. To give us time, Maze. And now I have a contract that says you didn’t listen.”</p><p>“That was a business deal.”</p><p>“A business deal a minor has no business signing for.” </p><p>Maze opens her mouth as if to interrupt. Chloe holds up a finger. “She’s my daughter, Maze. <i>Mine.</i> When it comes to her safety I won’t let Heaven, Hell or whatever else is out there harm a hair on her head. She’s been through too much already.”</p><p>“Decker, come on—” </p><p>“No,” Chloe snaps. “How can I trust you around Trixie if you’re okay playing hurtful pranks just because you find them funny?”</p><p>“You know I’d never do that to Trixie,” Maze says defensively.</p><p>“No, Maze, I don’t know that. Because now I’m stuck with the reminder of Lucifer everywhere. I trusted you, and you spread rumors behind my back. You know my background. You know how I feel about the paparazzi and being in the spotlight, and you still shone it right on me.”</p><p>“I won’t do it again.” She pauses and says, “I’m sorry,” although Chloe can tell the apology sits on Maze’s tongue like a foreign concept.</p><p>“Are you saying that because you recognize that what you did was wrong or because you want to manipulate me into letting you spend time with Trixie?”</p><p>“What? I wouldn’t!”</p><p>“You absolutely would, Maze.”</p><p>Maze glowers. In moments like these, Chloe absolutely believes Maze is a demon from Hell. Her rage is a live wire Chloe doesn’t want to touch, but she’s a mom first and foremost. So she crosses her arms, arches an eyebrow and holds her ground.</p><p>“I don’t know what you want me to do, Chloe,” Maze says, backing down.</p><p>“Find a better avenue for your frustration. Start working on that, and then we can talk. I want to figure this out, I really do, Maze. But there’s no going forward if I can’t trust you. If it’s betrayal after betrayal after betrayal… even if it’s just a joke... I don’t know that any friendship can withstand that.”</p><p>“Lucifer never minded my betrayals.”</p><p>“Are you really sure about that?”</p><p>“Kept him on his toes.”</p><p>“Right. Talk to Linda. Work on yourself, because I’m not putting up with it. And quit being a creeper outside my daughter’s school. They’re going to notice.” She leaves Maze on the lawn. If she has to deal with this any longer, she’s going to say something she will regret. As mad as she is at Maze, she wants to fix things. She just can’t do that if Maze sneaks around behind her back. She wants Trixie to grow up knowing  Maze is in her corner, and if she makes a mistake, Maze won’t joke at her expense. </p><p>Chloe misses the friendship she used to have with Maze. For all her flaws, she’d been a good roommate, and she hates seeing their friendship disintegrate, but there are some jokes that border on cruel, and this was one of them. </p><p>As much as she holds onto the hope she’ll see Lucifer again someday, there’s going to be no putting the ghost of him behind her.</p><p>Not with their marriage. As fabricated as it is.</p>
<hr/><p>Chloe comes home a few days later to find voices drifting from her bedroom. She raises her eyebrow when she hears Linda.</p><p>Trixie’s babysitter, Anna, is the one she expects to find in her house. Not Linda. She’s contemplated letting Anna go after discovering Trixie’s business, but they’d sat down and talked. Chloe knows just how slippery Trixie can be, and now that she and Anna are on the same page, she doesn’t have too many concerns about it happening again. Strangely, the candy business had been exactly what Trixie needed to buckle down and focus. </p><p>As for Anna, who’s a Norwegian troll of all things, she’s been finding her spine. She may be young and shy, but Chloe’s seen her put her foot down with Trixie. She also texts updates throughout the day, which has been hugely relieving. It’s why Chloe isn’t too concerned when she hears Linda’s voice filtering down her stairs. </p><p>Chloe takes the steps two by two, pushes the bedroom door open, and steps into a scene of destruction.</p><p>Brac grumbles at her from the corner. The three ever present pixies hold one of her blouses aloft—the one with the hearts—and dangle it over a pack-n-play that’s been set up in the corner of the room. Charlie squeals and reaches for the cavorting pixies and the shirt that’s just out of his reach.</p><p>Anna looks up from where she’s sorting Chloe’s dresses on the bed. She smiles shyly and cuts her eyes over to the closet. She darts out of the room as soon as Chloe steps in, Brac at her heels. </p><p>“Linda?” Chloe calls. She’s not sure what’s going on. Her closet looks like it's been plundered. Stacks of clothes sit on the bed, and her shoes are lined up with care on the floor. The green dress from the masquerade where Lucifer had his body issues is flung over the foot of the bed. Chloe steps forward and smooths a hand over the fabric. She’d loved wearing this dress.</p><p>“Chloe!” Linda says from inside the closet. “Hello!”</p><p>“Hi, Mom!” Trixie cries, peeking from the other side of the bed, and grins. “We’re giving you a makeover!” Trixie smacks the piles of clothes, a giddy smile crossing her face. “You’re an <i>influencer</i> now.”</p><p>“Oh baby, I don’t think so,” Chloe says. An influencer? That sounds horrible. She’s just a working mom trying to make it through the day.</p><p>“I’m inclined to agree with her, Chloe.” Linda tosses Chloe’s old NSYNC t-shirt onto the bed. “People pay attention to you now. Not just as Chloe Decker, Mom, or Chloe Decker, Detective, but as Chloe Decker, <i>Queen</i>.”</p><p>“Linda, you <i>know</i> how this started?”</p><p>“Yes. I do. Maze and I have talked about it at length. In fact, I swung by here because I wanted to talk to you about the situation. And then Trixie showed me Augur.”</p><p>Trixie leans over the pile of clothes and hands her phone to Chloe. “The pixies invited me,” she says, by way of explanation.</p><p>The app Trixie has open is called Augur. Underneath the flowing script of its logo there’s a wall of photos: all of them of Chloe.</p><p>She scrolls down and the photos keep going. There are pictures taken at Starbucks, walking into the precinct, at the grocery store. Photo after photo pulling apart her looks, her clothes, her life.</p><p>“Who took these?” Her voice shakes. All the horrible tabloid covers from her time in the limelight flash before her eyes. The speculation, the rumors, the outright stalking. She went on one date with Chris Seever and the covers had proclaimed they were in some torrid relationship when all they’d done was make out a bit. And then her dad had died, and the paparazzi had been everywhere, even at his funeral. She looks at the photos on Trixie’s phone, and suddenly she's nineteen again, dealing with it for the first time.</p><p>“It’s what everyone uses if they’re not-human.”</p><p>Chloe swallows, keeps scrolling and asks, “Why am I all over <i>Supernatural Instagram</i>?”</p><p>“Augur, Mom. It’s not Instagram. That would be a copyright violation, and they’d get pulled from the App Store.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m totally seeing the difference now.” She cocks an eyebrow at her daughter.</p><p>Trixie shoves aside a pile of clothes and plops into the open space. She kicks her feet against the frame. “The pixies thought it would be good for promoting Trixie and Pixies, since it's what everyone uses. You gotta have social media if you want to get anywhere these days.”</p><p>“Yes, clearly,” Chloe replies, dry as dust. </p><p>“Since Lucifer is my step-dad now we wanted to see if there were any pictures of you. And there are! It’s so cool. You’ve got your own hashtag, Mom. See. Scroll to the top and look at the trending topics.”</p><p>Chloe scrolls and there it is, just as Trixie said. #QueenSighting</p><p>Out of morbid curiosity, she thumbs open one of the photos. It looks like it was taken a few days ago when she’d been walking out of the Starbucks closest to the precinct.</p><p><b>WolfMan85:</b> <i>Is this her? I think this is her! I can’t believe I’m this close to Chloe Decker. Oh shit, should I even be using her name? What’s the right way to refer to the Queen of Hell? #QueenSighting</i></p><p>The next picture. This one from a crime scene. It had been taken from the crowd of onlookers. Deep in conversation, Chloe crouches over a body next to Ella.</p><p><b>SirenSong:</b> <i>Yassss Queen! Even royals get shit done. #QueenSighting</i></p><p>It goes on and on and on.</p><p>“This is disturbing,” Chloe says, unable to tear her eyes away from the train wreck. “I don’t know if I want you on this app, Monkey.” </p><p>Trixie shakes her head. “It’s fine, Mom. I don’t look at it too much. We just got curious. But we totally think you need to redo your wardrobe.” Trixie makes grabby hands, and Chloe hands the phone over. Trixie swipes through to a new photo and gives the phone back to Chloe.</p><p>It’s a perfectly normal photo. She’s walking down the street wearing her pink paisley shirt and looking at her phone, but the comment from Moththeman27 has her narrowing her eyes: <i>“Her husband is gorgeous and always looks like a snack, and this is what the Queen of Hell is walking around in? Someone call Queer Eye. This is a crime against fashion” #QueenSighting</i></p><p>“There are more like that,” Trixie says.  </p><p>“Why should I care what other people think of me? I didn’t ask for this.”</p><p>“No,” Linda replies gently. “You didn’t.” She pushes her glasses up her nose. “I don’t think you can put this one back in the box, Chloe. I’ve been giving the problem some thought, and I don’t know how you get out of it. Even if it’s not true, that perception of you as the Queen of Hell is out there.” Chloe glares and Linda holds up her hands. “I know how it started. I know it’s not true. But even if we give this time to settle down—will it?” </p><p>“It did after <i>Hot Tub High School</i>.”</p><p>Linda sighs and crosses her arms. “Social media makes everything worse. I have clients dealing with this on a regular basis. It takes a toll on mental health to constantly bear the brunt of other people’s criticisms and fantasies.” </p><p>“What kind of advice do you tell your clients?” </p><p>“To lean on their support networks, on the people that know them and love them best. To curate a group of people who won’t go running to the paparazzi with every single news story. To be aware of the image they’re presenting to the world but also to stick to their own sense of self. And most of all, to be aware of how much social media they’re consuming.” </p><p>“So what I’m hearing is get rid of social media and never look at my phone again.” </p><p>Trixie gasps, horror radiating off of her in waves, and Chloe wonders again if she’s been far too lenient on how much leeway Trixie gets on the internet. Chloe raises an eyebrow. She could set up some rules. No phones at certain times. She knows full well she has a problem too. </p><p>“And my clothes? They aren’t that bad.” </p><p>“Are you sure, Mom?” Trixie says. She holds up the pink paisley blouse from the picture. “Let’s burn some of it! We can have a beach bonfire and make s’mores!”</p><p>Chloe blinks, taken aback by Trixie’s vehemence.</p><p>“I think,” Linda adds. “That Trixie is concerned. I don’t think I’m wrong in that she doesn't like seeing strangers commenting on your wardrobe like that.” </p><p>Trixie nods, her face open and earnest. “You’re so pretty, Mom, and you’ve got great clothes. We could just donate a few pieces.” </p><p>“When was the last time you splurged on yourself, Chloe?” Linda asks. Charlie shrieks from the crib; he’s grabbed one of Chloe’s blouses and is playing tug of war with the pixies.</p><p>“It’s been awhile,” Chloe admits. There was a time when she loved clothes shopping, put thought and care into her outfits and accessories and worried what the world thought. She’d given that up over her years at the LAPD, only dipping back into the world of fashion every once in a while. “It could stand an update,” Chloe admits. </p><p>“So here’s what we’re going to do,” Linda says. “We’re going to make a keep pile and a donate pile. When we’re done here we’re going to take advantage of Lucifer’s enormous bank account and hire a stylist.” Chloe opens her mouth to protest. Linda arches an eyebrow and holds up a finger. “I know how hard it is right now, but you deserve this, Chloe. You work hard, you take care of Trixie, and you’re dealing with something that no other human has ever had to deal with. If you think Lucifer is going to care that you’re using his money to buy a new wardrobe for yourself, I can guarantee you he won’t. In fact, I think he would be pleased.”</p><p>“He’s got a great account, Mom!” Trixie chimes in. She pulls the phone from Chloe’s lax hands and with a few taps, hands it back. Chloe looks down at a very familiar face. She blinks and scrolls. Most of the photos Lucifer posted are selfies. Many were taken in Lux. Some photos are of Maze and even a few of her. The ones she appears in are all carefully framed, and she’s only referred to as “the detective” in his comments.</p><p>“Why would he put me on here?” Chloe asks, slightly dazed.</p><p>“Chloe,” Linda says, as if she was speaking to a particularly dense patient. “Do you know how many of our sessions were about ‘the detective’?”</p><p>“Isn’t that confidential, Doctor?”</p><p>Linda shrugs. “I’m not going to get into details, but I think putting you on here… he was drawing a circle around you. Protecting you. He’s the Devil—an archangel—and I get the feeling  supernatural movers and shakers kept a close eye on what he was doing. Including you in his social media, it’s a risk, but who’s going to cross him?”</p><p>Chloe looks down at the phone. He was a dumb Devil, showing everybody how much he cared. The world is so much bigger than she’d been able to conceive. He’d been protecting her from the start of their partnership, and she hadn’t even known.</p><p>She flicks through the rest of his account, boggling at how familiar and unfamiliar it is. She’s used to Lucifer’s Instagram. They follow each other, and she’d always rolled her eyes at the photos of beautiful women, beautiful men, drinking, and partying. Augur is something different. It’s immediately obvious he isn’t out to promote himself as some sort of hard-partying club owner here. Instead the pictures are more… regal. Artful selfies, luxurious clothes, whiskey. The people that matter to him. There are even posts for causes he supported.</p><p>“Strange, isn’t it?” Linda says. She shoves a pile of clothes over and sits on Chloe’s bed next to Trixie. “Lucifer never liked how the world perceived him. Prince of Lies and all that.” She makes quote marks with her fingers around the title. "He didn’t see it that way at all. I’m not surprised he’s so in control of his image on social media platforms. He may not be able to control what people say, but he can control what he puts out. It’s not a bad idea, frankly. You’re a public figure now, Chloe, as much as you don’t want to be.”</p><p>Chloe swipes open an image. It had been taken in Lucifer’s penthouse, in front of his wall of books. He’s sitting on a chair, glass of whiskey in one hand, legs crossed and staring at the camera with a dark expression. It is, she has to admit, very sexy.</p><p>“I can be your social media manager!” Trixie says, hopping off the bed.</p><p>“No,” Chloe says. “At this point, I think you’ve maybe had too much social media.” </p><p>“Aw mom,” Trixie moans. “I’d be good at it.” </p><p>“You have school and a business, plus surfing lessons with your dad. I don’t think we need to add anything else to your plate, Trix.” She shakes her head and turns back to Linda. “I don’t even know where to start.”</p><p>“Start by going through your wardrobe.” Linda’s phone dings from its perch on a stack of clothes. Text message after text message pops up on the screen. “Maze knows some stylists who owe Lucifer favors. We’ll google them and find one who will be a good fit."</p><p>“Please, Mom,” Trixie says. “It’ll be fun. I promise.”</p><p>Chloe sighs. “How can I say no to you, Monkey?”</p><p>“Um, you just did, Mom. Like five seconds ago. But I’m right on this one.”</p><p>She crosses her arms and tries to look stern. “I’ll look into it. Can you give us a moment, Monkey? I need to talk to Linda.”</p><p>“Fine,” Trixie grumbles. “I think I need some water anyways.” The pixies zip after her, buzzing and chittering down the hallway.</p><p>“That is never going to stop being weird,” Linda says. </p><p>“You’re telling me. They pretty much live here now.” Chloe shakes her head. “I have staff.”</p><p>“I have a live-in demon, and I gave birth to an angel baby. My baby’s grandfather is God. Like, <i>GOD</i> God.”</p><p>“When did our lives get so strange?”</p><p>“You told the Devil he was repulsive, and he fell for you on the spot.”</p><p>“Oh yeah, that’s how it happened. God, he was so smarmy back then. And you… Mrs. I-Do-Hot-Yoga.”</p><p>Linda buries her face in her hands and groans. Chloe smirks. She’d sat next to him on Linda’s couch and boggled that a grown woman would act this way, especially about a man as arrogant as Lucifer. And now here Chloe is, pining after that same man. Linda peeks between her fingers and mumbles something about the sex being really good.</p><p>“I wouldn’t know,” Chloe replies crisply. “The most we ever did was kiss. And even then I can count those on one hand, and now everyone thinks we're married and there wasn’t even a wedding night. Thanks, Maze.”</p><p>“That’s what I came over to talk to you about.”</p><p>“Maze? I really don’t want to hear it, Linda.”</p><p>“I know, but she knows she messed up. She’s not good at… expressing these feelings. But she’s trying.”</p><p>“And she sent you to tell me this?”</p><p>“No, I came on my own. I haven’t seen you for a while and wanted to check on you. I’m glad I did, because I think Trixie was ready to take apart your closet on her own.”</p><p>Chloe nudges one of her sensible brown shoes. “I’m not sure that makes it better.”</p><p>“Possibly, but what I wanted to suggest was a tribe night. You, me, Maze, and Ella. We’ll go somewhere besides Lux. Neutral ground.”</p><p>“Oh, I don’t know, Linda.”</p><p>“Come on, Chloe. Let’s pick a restaurant this time. Your choice.”</p><p>“I’ve got work and Trixie…”</p><p>“Have Dan watch her,” Linda says. “Girls night. Next weekend. It’ll be fun.”</p><p>“Fine, but leave the therapist hat at home.”</p><p>“Only if you leave the detective badge behind.”</p><p>“Deal. But no promises on getting along with Maze.”</p><p>“It’ll be great,” Linda replies. “You’ll see!”</p><p>That remains to be seen, Chloe thinks.</p>
<hr/><p>The corridors loom large overhead. Lucifer feels jittery and ill at ease as he moves through Hell. He keeps his gait loose and relaxed, not wanting any onlooking demons to pick up on his mood. The silence is oppressive. Doors rattle in their frames and ash drifts down. Nothing has changed. Hell is exactly how it’s always been. He could duck into any one of the rooms, get to know the inhabitant and what made them tick, what drove their guilt. Assuage his boredom with the doomed souls that reside in his kingdom.</p><p>But he’s not interested, not right now.</p><p>Thousands of years as King. Millennia. Eons even, and he’s bored.</p><p>He could go bother Cain, even though that too was growing dull. There were only so many “your mama” jokes one could make.</p><p>Lucifer shoves his hands into his pockets and sighs as further down the corridor a demon scurries just out of sight. Its feet scuff against the basalt floor and Lucifer grimaces. They’ve been following him, ever since Zergal brought the mail. No matter where he goes, demonic eyes follow and hangers-on pepper him with questions about Chloe.</p><p>He indulges them as best he can. They’re curious, his demons. They don’t have a solid concept of marriage. What little they know comes from the damned souls residing in the loops, and that typically doesn’t provide the best example. Even Lucifer’s experience with marriage mainly consists of his parents' failed go at it and the many, many sexual escapades he’s had with married men and women, separately and together.</p><p>Even Candy. Their marriage had been short, but only because he considered it a necessary business arrangement.</p><p>Besides, Candy isn’t interested in men. Even the Devil himself couldn’t do anything about that one, not that he’d wanted to. He enjoys her the way she is.</p><p>The clouds swirl overhead, a vortex of ash. If he wants to escape his demons, he could retreat to the throne. They can’t follow him there. But, he reminds himself, they’re his responsibility and the reason he’s here when he could be... elsewhere.</p><p>He tries to squash memories of the detective, of her cozy apartment and nights spent playing Monopoly with the spawn. Of the times he’s played the piano with her shoulder bumping into his. The stakeouts they went on, the takeout he’d brought her. Her ridiculous coffee order.</p><p>He tries not to think about what it would be like waking up together, driving to the precinct together, being able to show her off as his…</p><p>It doesn’t matter. It isn’t going to happen.</p><p>He turns on his heel and rounds a basalt corner. The door the demon entered earlier rattles in its frame. He opens it and steps into a raucous club scene. Simulated crowds dance and rub against each other. His eyes adjust to the flashing lights instantaneously, and he spots his demons clustered around a raised platform with a pole attached. The damned human is a paunchy middle-aged man wearing nothing but a G-string and stripper heels. He bends over and shakes his arse at his demonic onlookers as tears stream down his flushed and sweaty cheeks.</p><p>The demons whoop, delighted. They toss singles at him, asking to touch and kiss and fondle. The soul scoops up the money and cringes as wandering hands pat and squeeze in places the soul would have considered off-limits in life. Not that his life was much to speak of, the things this one had gotten up to...</p><p>"Lord Morningstar!" a demon calls. It appears at his elbow in the guise of a handsome young man with glitter on his cheeks. He blows a kiss at Lucifer and flutters his eyelashes.</p><p>“Now, now, Belphezel,” Lucifer says. “What kind of fun are you having in here?”</p><p>“We’re throwing a <i>bachelor party</i>!” Emphasizing the last two words and grinning, Belphezel bounces towards his compatriots. He climbs onto the platform with the dancing soul and slaps his jiggly arse.</p><p>A bachelor party. That’s a fairly new concept for his demons to chew on. He’s sure their interest has <i>nothing</i> to do with his own marital state. He looks at his partying demons and the crying soul and tugs at his cufflinks.</p><p>This Hell loop looks nothing like Lux. It’s a rundown stripper joint. There are cigarette holes in the upholstery, it smells like old sweat and vomit, and the alcohol is bottom barrel. But it still feels like a punch to the gut, a reminder that Lux isn’t his home anymore.</p><p>He takes a step back toward the exit.</p><p>Another demon dances its way around him before he can leave. "Will you dance with me, Lord Morningstar? We’ll have such fun. It's a celebration after all!"</p><p>Lucifer slips past the demon. He is King, but his demons can be so Dad-damned earnest sometimes.</p><p>Demonic bachelor parties. He steps into the corridors of Hell and shakes his head. What will they think up next?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It turns out that doing NaNo as well as editing and posting a fic is HIGHLY STRESSFUL. I mean, not really, the world is highly stressful and I've had lots of fun writing this fic and the sequel that's currently a hot mess of JUST GET THE WORDS DOWN.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. You slept with an angel of the lord!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>José’s Mexican Food has been around as long as Chloe can remember. Her dad brought her when she was a little girl, and it had turned into their spot. They went when she argued with her mom, or if she’d failed an audition, or was lonely and bemoaning life as a child actor. Her dad would take her out to blow off steam, and they’d end the day at José’s, eating chips and salsa and talking about life.</p>
<p>She’d brought Dan and then Trixie, eager to continue the tradition with her own family. So much had happened since they’d last sat in one of the old booths together.</p>
<p>The last time she’d been here… she hadn’t even met Lucifer yet. </p>
<p>She lingers outside the front door and looks at the old familiar sign. She’ll be sitting down with Linda (who knows about the weirdness in her life), Maze (who caused the weirdness), and Ella (who's completely oblivious). </p>
<p>The scent of Mexican food wafts in the air as she pushes the door open. Familiar celebrity photos line the walls. If she were to look closely, she would even find a photo of her mother.</p>
<p>Linda waves from a booth in the corner. Chloe joins them, sliding in next to her. Ella beams but doesn’t break stride, continuing a convoluted story about throwing herself on top of pool toys and filming it for hits and views, though Chloe isn’t sure why anyone would be into that. To each their own, she supposes. Maze downs one of her many tequila shots and rolls her eyes.</p>
<p>The eye roll rankles, and Chloe knows her annoyance is because she’s irritated at Maze in general. This is how Maze has always acted around Ella, and Chloe knows that if it doesn’t bother Ella then it shouldn’t bother her. Easier said than done when her frustration at Maze simmers so close to the surface.</p>
<p><i>It’s not worth arguing over</i>, she tells herself firmly and scoops a generous amount of salsa onto a tortilla chip. It’s good friends, good food, and good drinks. It’s <i>fine</i>.</p>
<p>Life is weird now. It’s totally fine. She can forget the brownie doing housework, and the naga who keeps trying to befriend her in yoga. She can forget about catching the pixies raiding her fridge at 3 a.m. to eat the pint of Ben and Jerry's she’d been saving. She can have dinner and not think about how the supernatural community she’d previously known nothing about is trying to mash her and Lucifer together like Barbies.</p>
<p>A server places a large margarita in front of her and Chloe smiles. The night is looking up.</p>
<p>It’s exactly what she needs: the salt on the rim, the flavor of the lime and the tequila. She licks her lips after a long slurp and closes her eyes. She wouldn’t say no to mashing herself against Lucifer right about now, not that they ever really have. A few kisses here and there. She realizes with a jolt that he probably thinks she’s a prude. Unadventurous and uninterested, which is far from the truth. She’s just not interested until she knows someone, and now that she knows him, really knows him, if he were around he’d be surprised at how willing she is. She sighs and takes another sip. It’s been way too long, and her only company has been her vibrator.</p>
<p>That’s the worst part of all. Everyone assumes he’s her husband, and he’s not even here to stop the rumors or laugh with her about the idiocy of it all. What kind of bride doesn’t even get laid on her wedding night? Not that she cares. She totally doesn’t care.</p>
<p>It’s not like she’s kicking herself for wasting time. Even though they could have been together, but she’d overthought things, again.</p>
<p>She could have had her hands down his pants, but instead she’d let her emotions cockblock everything. She glares at the ice cubes sitting at the bottom of her margarita glass. Stupid, dumb emotions getting in the way of blowjobs.</p>
<p>She takes another sip. It’s mostly empty. When did it become empty?</p>
<p>Linda plucks the glass from her hands. "No, gimme," Chloe protests. Linda hands it off to a busboy and pushes a full margarita into her grasp. Chloe cradles it close and takes a long, lingering sip.</p>
<p>"You're gonna regret this in the morning, Decker." Maze says, downing another shot.</p>
<p>"Maybe," Chloe replies. "But I don't have work tomorrow, and if it makes me forget the Queen of Hell thing for a moment… then I'm good."</p>
<p>Ella wrinkles her nose. "Queen of Hell? Does this have something to do with Lucifer?"</p>
<p>Linda shovels a tortilla chip into her mouth.</p>
<p>"He left," Chloe says. "And now all the supernatural creatures in Los Angeles think we're married."</p>
<p>“Is this about Lucifer’s devil movie? Is that why he’s out of town?” Ella’s eyebrows draw together like she’s trying to add two and two, but ending up with seven. “Are you gonna be in it too? Oh man, Decker, I can’t wait to see this flick. Lucifer’s been prepping for years and now you too. The chemistry is gonna be off the chain. Like I remember this one time at a crime scene, the two of you were <i>sizzling</i>—” </p>
<p>“Hell is real, and Lucifer is the Devil. <i>Catch up, Ellen</i>," Maze sneers.</p>
<p>Irritation bubbles up and Chloe can’t help but snap, “Lay off; it’s okay she doesn’t know.” </p>
<p>“I walked into the middle of something, didn’t I?” Ella asks with wide eyes, her head swiveling between Maze and Chloe. </p>
<p>“Maze forged a marriage certificate and submitted it to the state.” Chloe takes a long sip of her margarita, annoyed to be back on this topic. It’s like picking at a scab, but she can’t seem to stop. “We’re married now.” </p>
<p>“What?! Maze! That’s no bueno, chica.”</p>
<p>“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Maze admits. “It was a joke.” </p>
<p>“It went too far,” Chloe shoots back.</p>
<p>“Okay. Okay,” Linda says. “Ladies, we’re here to have a good time. Maze, do you have anything to say to Chloe?”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Maze grits out as if she’s chewing glass. “I was angry at Lucifer and upset about Eve. It was a dumb joke, and I took it too far.”</p>
<p>“You’re damn right you did,” Chloe mutters.</p>
<p>“But this makes no sense,” Ella says. “Call Lucifer up. Tell him Maze did something dumb; it can be annulled or you can get divorced. No biggie. I mean, awkward, super duper awkward, but this can be fixed.”</p>
<p>“No cell signal in Hell.” Maze leans back and spreads her arms along the back of the booth.</p>
<p>“Or you initiate the divorce. California is no-fault, still tedious and annoying and a time-wasting nightmare, but at least you’d have it done.”</p>
<p>Maze barks out a laugh.</p>
<p>“I thought about it,” Chloe says. “But I’m kinda scared what would happen if word got out.”</p>
<p>Ella lowers her voice. “Is Lucifer in the mob or something? Is that why he had to leave?"</p>
<p>“It’s all so dumb,” Chloe says, ignoring Ella’s question. It would almost be easier if he were in the mob. At least he’d still be on Earth.  “I could get it annulled or get a divorce. He’d never know.” She slaps her hand on the table. “But here I am fending off supernatural creatures who want to be best friends with me. Do you know one of the baristas at Beelzebean is a djinn? I can’t buy coffee anymore. He gives it to me for free. Won’t even take my money when I offer it. So now I give really big tips.” She pauses to watch a server hand off food to a nearby table. “I want taquitos.”</p>
<p>“I’m really confused,” Ella replies. </p>
<p>“I think it’s time to order food,” Linda says. “You hit those margaritas really fast, Chloe.” She leans over and waves down a server.</p>
<p>Conversation drifts to more pleasant topics as they wait for their food. Linda tells them about Charlie and the milestones he’s hitting, Maze shares some of her more hilarious bounty hunting stories, and Ella rattles on about her brothers. It’s pleasant. It feels normal. They talk and laugh, and Chloe can feel her ire at Maze draining away. Doused by margaritas and conversation, the hot prick of rage is no longer simmering. Maybe, she <i>should</i> forgive. </p>
<p>She opens her mouth to say so and instead what comes out is, “I’m going to go home to Buzz.”</p>
<p>“Yup, still confused,” Ella replies. “Who’s Buzz?”</p>
<p>“My vibrator,” Chloe explains, distantly horrified that she’s spilling this information, but Drunk Chloe cannot be stopped. “I named it.”</p>
<p>Maze cackles.</p>
<p>"His name is Buzz. Buzz the Bullet. Buzz is the only one who loves me."</p>
<p>"It can't be that bad, Chloe," Ella says.</p>
<p>"I'm in love with the Devil, who went back to Hell. All of Los Angeles thinks I married him, and we’ve never even had sex. My last serious relationship was with an immortal mob moss." She glares at her plate of taquitos. "It's me and Buzz now. I love Buzz. He never lets me down. Except when I forget to charge him."</p>
<p>"Señoritas," a man interrupts. He’s heavyset with thick black hair, dark skin, and a wide friendly face. His name tag says 'Hola, my name is José'. “Thank you for dining with us tonight. I’m José, the manager, and I wanted to see how you liked dinner."  </p>
<p>"Super yummy," Ella enthuses, bouncing in her seat. Chloe feels dizzy watching her ponytail swing. "The chili rellenos are awesome."</p>
<p>He nods and turns dark eyes on Chloe "And you? How did you enjoy your meal?" He looks at her like her words could disembowel him.</p>
<p>"It was good." She hiccups and giggles. “I really like the margaritas.”</p>
<p>José blows out a nervous breath and his smile is blinding. "That... means the world, <i>Alteza</i>." He wrings his hands together. "Do you... could we... if it's not too much of an imposition, could we get a picture taken together? I've never had someone of your stature in the restaurant before." He chuckles. "Something to tell <i>mis nietos</i>."</p>
<p>Ella eyeballs the wall of celebrity photos.</p>
<p>"Sure." Chloe hiccups again, not entirely sure how to escape this situation. "I'm not exactly looking my best though."</p>
<p>"Oh, no, Your Majesty. You look radiant, sublime…."</p>
<p>Chloe pushes herself out of the booth, wobbling slightly. "Linda, could you?"</p>
<p>José hands over his cell phone and leans in next to Chloe. She can feel his body quaking from nerves. Chloe smiles. Linda takes the photo and hands the phone back to José, who clutches it tightly to himself as thanks burble out along with something about comping their meal, since having her here was a gift, or whatever. She didn’t quite catch all of it.</p>
<p>"If you don't mind me asking, José," Linda says, "and I don't mean to be rude, but what's your background?"</p>
<p>"Oh, <i>sí, señorita</i>, it is no problem. <i>Mi familia</i> and I, we are chupacabras." </p>
<p>Scales ripple across his suddenly elongated face, and a lizard-like tongue licks at sharp teeth. Ella's breath hitches, and all Chloe can think is <i>oh shit</i>.</p>
<p>Maze downs another tequila shot. </p>
<p>"We've been running this restaurant since before there was a Los Angeles," José says, his face back to being that of a seemingly normal Mexican man. </p>
<p>"You do an amazing job," Linda says, not missing a beat. "It really is a lovely place."</p>
<p>"Oh <i>gracias, señorita. Gracias</i>." He bows low to Chloe. “<i>Su Alteza</i>, your presence honors us." </p>
<p>He hustles away, his nose buried in his phone, a wide smile wreathing his face as he beams down at the picture of Chloe.</p>
<p>"So, um, not a method actor?" Ella says, sounding faint.</p>
<p>Chloe buries her face in her hands.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Ella throws up in the trash can just outside of the restaurant.</p>
<p>“I always knew Ellen couldn’t handle her alcohol,” Maze says scathingly. </p>
<p>“You’re still not being nice,” Chloe tells her. “That was a pretty big thing to find out, Maze.” </p>
<p>“Shhhh,” Linda rubs Ella’s back as she heaves. “Shhhh, shhhh. It’s okay.”</p>
<p>“Lucifer isn’t really in Florida is he?” Ella moans. She accepts the napkins Chloe hands her and dabs at her mouth.</p>
<p>“No,” Chloe replies, still feeling tipsy but more lucid than she had been in the restaurant now that she’s had a glass of water and some fresh-ish air.</p>
<p>“He went back to Hell, the asshole. He didn’t even ask me. Do you know how badly I’m itching for an ash wallow?” Maze gripes.</p>
<p>Ella sobs and heaves.</p>
<p>“Let's maybe park this conversation for now,” Linda interjects, glaring at Maze. “Ella, you’re coming home with me.” </p>
<p>Ella shakes her head, looking even more green. Linda is having none of it. “No arguments. This isn’t time for you to be alone. We are not going to overthink things. You’ll come home with me, and I’ll explain, and it will all be better in the morning.”</p>
<p>Ella plucks at Linda’s sleeve. “Lucifer is the Devil, and I hugged him. We’re <i>friends</i>.”</p>
<p>“And I slept with him,” Linda replies. “And we’re also friends.”</p>
<p>Ella’s eyes widen and she manages a passable imitation of a surprised goldfish. The noise she makes sounds vaguely like she’s trying to hack up a hairball. She stops, swallows, and finally finds her words. “LINDA, THAT IS COMPLETELY UNETHICAL.”</p>
<p>“Oh, very.” Linda nods. “I almost lost my license over it, and now I’m mom to an angel baby.”</p>
<p>Ella’s mouth falls open and she looks completely blindsided. “Amenadiel is Lucifer’s brother. And if Lucifer is the Devil, then he’s also an angel, which means Amenadiel is an angel. Linda. You slept with an angel of the Lord!”</p>
<p>“Yup. Did that too.”</p>
<p>An Uber pulls up to the curb and Linda hustles a shocked Ella into the backseat without a glance back at Chloe and Maze.</p>
<p>“You’re drunk,” Maze states.</p>
<p>“Wow. Observant,” Chloe replies, watching the car pull away with Linda and Ella. </p>
<p>“Look, I know I screwed up. You didn’t deserve it.”</p>
<p>Chloe scoffs.</p>
<p>“I’d never do anything to hurt Trixie.”</p>
<p>“But you did, Maze,” Chloe points out. “Last year, you lashed out and she heard you.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t mean it,” Maze mutters.</p>
<p>“You never mean it, Maze.” Chloe sniffs and wipes at her eyes.</p>
<p>“I shouldn’t have,” Maze says, this time with more conviction in her voice.</p>
<p>Chloe nods.</p>
<p>“Let me make it up to you.”</p>
<p>“I’m not sure how, Maze.”</p>
<p>“I’ll figure it out.”</p>
<p>A black sedan pulls up next to the curb and Chloe’s phone buzzes, letting her know her ride has arrived. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow,” Chloe says. “My brain is mush.”</p>
<p>“Tomorrow it is.” Maze smirks. “Have fun with Buzz.”</p>
<p>“Oh, shut up.” Chloe laughs and climbs into the backseat of the car.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The car turns, and Chloe’s stomach flips. She’s out of the pleasantly buzzed part of the evening and entered into ‘the room is spinning oh-God-I-drank-too-much-and-I’m-feeling-sick'.</p>
<p>Ella should never have found out—she doesn’t deserve to be dragged into this. None of them do, but here they are, humans with proof of the divine. Are there support groups for spouses of the supernatural? Should she be in one? Who else would understand how strange it is to go out to eat and encounter a chupacabra running a Mexican food restaurant? </p>
<p>Although she’s seen weirder. Like the Devil himself as a civilian consultant for the LAPD.</p>
<p>And she’s in love with him.</p>
<p>Everything keeps circling around to that one fact.</p>
<p>The car swerves through traffic, and her exit comes and goes. And then the next exit. And the next. Her place isn’t that hard to find. </p>
<p>Chloe taps the driver on the shoulder. “You missed my exit. We’re not even close to Venice Beach. It’s 2128 Zephyr Court. You’re heading toward Inglewood, not Venice. “</p>
<p>Her driver is a skinny man with sallow skin, bulging eyes, and snaggleteeth that have never seen a dentist. His eyes flick to the rearview mirror. She can see his smirk. It’s a sleazy expression, one she’s seen plenty of times as a cop. It’s the kind of expression that someone wears when they think they have power over another person. </p>
<p>“I know where I’m going,” he says in a bland midwestern accent.</p>
<p>“Do you really?” Chloe replies. Alarm zips through her body, all of her senses screaming in unison that something is wrong.</p>
<p>“I know where I’m going, baby.”</p>
<p>“Baby,” Chloe repeats, ice cold. “Say that again and you’ll regret it.”</p>
<p>“Oooooh, a feisty one.” He flicks on his turn signal and exits the 405 into an industrial part of town. Chloe jiggles the door handle, preparing to throw herself out if need be. The door won’t open. She bangs on the glass, hoping passersby will notice. </p>
<p>“Hey!” She shouts and bangs harder, pressing the button to roll down the window. Nothing. She jams it again. “I’ve been kidnapped! Help!” </p>
<p>No one notices.</p>
<p>“No one is gonna help you, sweetness,” the driver says.</p>
<p>He turns down a narrow street between two warehouses. The sidewalk is cracked and littered with debris: an abandoned shopping cart, the huddled form of a person under a blanket. Dim lights from a nearby building illuminate the inside of the car. He parks and their eyes catch in the rearview mirror. Delight reflects on his sallow face.</p>
<p>Her sidearm is tucked in the gun safe at home. She doesn’t bring it with her when she’s off duty. Her fingers tighten on the door handle as adrenaline courses through her body. The drunken buzz she was coasting on is a thing of the past, and she can feel her muscles coiling in anticipation.</p>
<p>“Mmm, I love it when they struggle,” the driver croons. He grins over his shoulder at her. “It makes the blood sing, and it tastes so sweet.” His smile widens unnaturally and elongated canines glint in the dim light. He licks his teeth. “I’m the thing lurking in the dark, the stuff of nightmares.”</p>
<p>Chloe blinks, shocked. It takes her a moment to register what she’s seeing, and then she laughs.</p>
<p>“I don’t think you understand the danger you’re in, human,” the vampiric Uber driver says. “I’m going to suck you dry and leave your body to rot.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think you understand the danger <i>you’re</i> in,” Chloe shoots back, her frayed nerves sizzling into incandescent anger. She straightens her back and glares down her nose. “Do you realize who’s in the car with you?”</p>
<p>“A tasty morsel. Your blood will taste delicious on my tongue.” He licks his lips. “I hunger.”</p>
<p>“You’re ridiculous,” Chloe spits. “How dare you not recognize the Queen of Hell. Surely you must have heard of me. Or maybe you’ve heard of my husband, Lucifer Morningstar, the Adversary, Prince of Darkness, Satan, Beelzebub, the King of Hell? Do you realize how badly you’ve misstepped?” Her heart pounds in her chest, her palms are slick with sweat, but she doesn’t blink, doesn’t look away from the vampire’s increasingly panicky gaze.</p>
<p>The vampire opens his mouth. Blinks. He wrinkles his nose. “Chloe Decker,” he says faintly. “M-my l-l-lady, I would never think to presume.”</p>
<p>“That’s right,” Chloe snaps. “You didn’t think.”</p>
<p>“I… please… please. Mercy.”</p>
<p>Chloe sits back and tries to channel every single episode of <i>The Crown</i> she’s ever seen. “I’m feeling charitable.” She rattles off Linda’s address. “Take me there, and if you ever think of preying on humans again you’ll be praying for mercy by the time I’m done with you.” She sounds ridiculous, she knows she does, but she straightens her spine and lifts her chin and amazingly, it works. </p>
<p>“Yes, Your Highness, yes, yes, right away.” The vampiric Uber driver starts the car and pulls out of the dim street. Passing lights illuminate bloody tears as they streak down his cheeks.</p>
<p>Chloe holds herself ramrod straight. This is insane, but it seems to be working. She isn’t the Queen of Hell, no matter how many supernatural creatures seem convinced she is. Even if she and Lucifer are married in the eyes of the state, it isn’t like she has any powers. She can threaten all she wants, but the most she can do is get his license plate, report him to Uber and... could she even arrest a vampire for attempted murder? What would that look like? Arrest on suspicion of intent to exsanguinate?</p>
<p>Linda’s. She needs to make it to Linda’s.</p>
<p>“How many others?” Chloe demands from the backseat. Streetlights flash by as he pulls off the 405.</p>
<p>“My Lady?”</p>
<p>“How many others have you done this to?” Chloe demands.</p>
<p>The vampire hunches in his seat. “I’m from Nebraska,” he admits. “I drink pig’s blood to stay alive. I thought… I thought I’d come out to Los Angeles and try my luck, live like a real vampire, and I botched it.” A red, bloody tear drips down his chin.</p>
<p>He stops in front of Linda’s place and the car locks disengage. “I should arrest you,” Chloe says, one hand on the door handle. “Charge you with kidnapping and attempted murder, but I’m not sure how I’ll explain this, so I’m not.” She narrows her eyes. “Do not make me regret this decision.”</p>
<p>The vampire presses his head against the steering wheel. “Yes, yes, anything you say. Please, please, don’t hurt me.”</p>
<p>“You can go,” Chloe says imperiously. She swings the car door open, steps out as gracefully as she can manage, and marches up to Linda’s house.</p>
<p>The car peels away.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Chloe, what?” Linda gasps when she opens the door. She’s wiped the makeup from her face but hasn’t gotten much farther than that since getting home. Chloe stumbles past down the stairs, past a shocked Linda and into her bubble-wrapped living room. </p>
<p>“Is something wrong?” Linda asks. The door closes with a thud and Linda throws the locks. </p>
<p>Chloe pulls out her phone and calls Dan. </p>
<p>"-ello?" Dan says.</p>
<p>"Is Trixie okay?"</p>
<p>"Chlo— yeah, um." He groans. She can hear the sheets rustling as he rolls over. "It's late, Chlo. Trixie's asleep. I went to bed a little while ago.” He pauses, and she can tell he’s picked up on the panic in her voice. "Is everything all right?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, sorry. I forgot what time it was. Just got a little freaked out." She laughs, high and forced. Dan hums on the other line, unconvinced. "Seriously, just a little paranoid. I'll call in the morning."</p>
<p>She hangs up before Dan can get another word in.</p>
<p>"Now you're definitely telling me what has you so spooked," Linda says, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. </p>
<p>Chloe stares down at her, struck by how tiny Linda is when not in her sky high heels. Linda arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. She glances around, wondering where Ella is. </p>
<p>“Ella’s in the spare bedroom,” Linda whispers into the silence. “Are you okay?” </p>
<p>Is she okay? Not remotely. "My driver was a vampire," Chloe blurts out, the ridiculousness of the statement making her want to sink into the floor and be swallowed whole, but such is her life now. "He tried to snack on me.” </p>
<p>She flops onto Linda's expensive couch and stares up at the bubble-wrapped ceiling fan. The all-too-familiar chill of adrenaline is starting to wear off. But she’s been shot at, attacked, and found out her partner was the Devil. She can hold herself together well enough in the moment, even if the come-down sucks.</p>
<p>Linda makes a soft noise and the couch dips as she sits down. She takes Chloe's hand in her own. The contact—the feel of another person next to her, Linda’s palm against her own—is grounding.</p>
<p>"How did you get away?" Linda asks quietly.</p>
<p>Chloe's laugh is more of a scoff. She still can’t believe this is her life. She’s not cut out to deal with these things. Even her mom’s B-movies have never been this ridiculous. She sighs. </p>
<p>"I'm the Queen of Hell," she admits, hating the shape of the words as she says them. “I asked him if he knew who I was and who I was married to. Turns out he didn't want to run afoul of my husband." </p>
<p><i>Husband</i>. It’s still such a strange concept to equate with her promiscuous man-child of a partner.</p>
<p>Her husband is the Devil. She turns the idea over in her head, trying the phrase and concept on for size. Her husband is Lucifer Morningstar, someone the supernatural community seems awed and terrified by, but all she can see are the ridiculous assless pants he wore to a crime scene because he was sexed out.</p>
<p>That’s who all the things that go bump in the night are scared of?</p>
<p>"Vampires," Linda says. "I shouldn't be surprised, it feels like every other client of mine is supernatural.” </p>
<p>“What? Really?” </p>
<p>Linda tightens her hand around Chloe's. "Word got out that the Devil was seeing me for therapy. As recommendations go, that’s a big one.” </p>
<p>Chloe relaxes, her muscles loosening as her flight-or-fight response eases up. "What do I do, Linda? It feels wrong to let the whole"—she waves a hand—“supernatural community think I'm Lucifer's... wife. And how do I keep Trixie safe when there are vampires and nagas, and she’s going into business with pixies and making deals with Japanese spirits?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I’m terrified someone will try to kidnap Charlie again. I want to trust Amenadiel won’t let it happen, but he handed Charlie off the first time and…”</p>
<p>“I know,” Chloe says. “It doesn’t make sense, but when you’re a mom, it doesn’t have to.” </p>
<p>Trixie was kidnapped by Malcolm. Gunmen barged into Lucifer's penthouse and threatened her daughter. Trixie has dealt with so much because of Chloe's job, and now... </p>
<p>"I think..." She blinks back tears and tries not to surrender to the exhaustion creeping in. "I think maybe I should own the title and quit acting like it’s some dirty secret.”</p>
<p>Linda murmurs next to her, too quietly for Chloe to catch.</p>
<p>“With the stylist, the lawyer, the money. It’s been happening on its own, but I’ve been digging my heels in on being okay with it. But it’s not just about me, or even you. It's about Trixie and Charlie. Lucifer would understand. It's about keeping them, about keeping us, safe."</p>
<p>“It was already moving this way,” Linda says. “But have we really thought through the ramifications? What if someone decides to make a play because they think you're"—her voice goes slightly high pitched—"the Devil's wife."</p>
<p>“I don’t think they will,” Chloe admits. “No one wants to cross him.” She shakes her head. “Have you told Amenadiel about my fake marriage?”</p>
<p>“No,” Linda replies. “I’ve already been walking on eggshells around Maze. Who knew cohabitating with a demon and an angel would be so fraught.”</p>
<p>Chloe squeezes Linda's hand and lets the subject of Amenadiel and Maze slide. “You and me? Who wants to cross that?” </p>
<p>And that's the main thing. This weird inadvertent title she’s been saddled with. It’s protection. She knows Lucifer wouldn’t begrudge her that. He wouldn’t begrudge Linda or Charlie that. So she’s going to take it. She’s Chloe Decker, LAPD, bride of Satan, Queen of Hell, and woe betide anyone who crosses her.</p>
<p>“Do you mind if I take your couch for the night? I can help explain things to Ella in the morning.”</p>
<p>“I’ll get you a blanket. I wouldn’t want anyone to say the Queen of Hell was cold.” Linda disentangles her hand from Chloe’s and pushes herself off the couch.</p>
<p>“It doesn’t change anything, Linda.”</p>
<p>Linda puts her hands on her hips and looks at Chloe like she’s taken a hard fall and hasn’t come to her senses yet. “You say that now, but I think we’ll be revisiting this conversation down the road.” </p>
<p>She turns and disappears further into the house.</p>
<p>Chloe kicks off her shoes  and unzips her jeans, feeling gross and bloated after the margaritas and Mexican food. Everything will be fine. Her family and friends will be protected, and Lucifer will never know they got accidentally married thanks to a demonic prank gone wrong.</p>
<p>It’s going to be fine.</p>
<p>Totally fine.</p>
<p>She falls asleep telling herself that.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Sunlight slants through Linda’s windows. </p>
<p>Chloe screws her eyelids shut and wishes for blackout curtains. Linda should invest in them. She smacks her lips, grimacing at the taste of an unbrushed mouth after a night of food and alcohol.</p>
<p>And surprise vampiric encounters.</p>
<p>Somehow her life is turning into <i>Buffy the Vampire Slayer</i>, and she isn’t sure how to feel about it. Did being married to the Devil mean she was the chosen one? Or does that make her the bad guy?</p>
<p>Father Kinley would probably have had plenty to say on the subject. </p>
<p>She groans. Her head pounds. </p>
<p>Someone taps their foot.</p>
<p>Chloe covers her eyes entirely and turns her head so she’s facing the back of the couch. Maybe they’ll go away?</p>
<p>The foot taps harder.</p>
<p>Chloe peeks at the coffee table. Ella beams back at her. “I have questions.” She holds up her phone, the note app visible with a long list of bullet pointed questions filling the screen.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” Linda says from behind Ella. “I told her we’d answer her questions once you were up.” </p>
<p>Chloe glares. Linda tightens her robe around her waist and shrugs as if to say she isn’t the only one responsible for this mess.</p>
<p>“Fine, but I need coffee.” Chloe manages to get herself upright, but it’s a struggle. Her shirt is wrinkled, she’s unzipped and unbuttoned her jeans, and her hair is a mess. She runs her fingers through the tangles in a desperate attempt to smooth it out. Some Queen of Hell she is. Although she’s seen Lucifer looking plenty wrecked in the past. Her brain helpfully pulls up far too many images of him in an undone state.</p>
<p>Linda disappears into the kitchen, supposedly for Chloe’s coffee. Ella bounces her feet against the rug, fidgets, and finally blurts out, “Was that dude really a chupacabra?”</p>
<p>“Coffee first,” Chloe groans.</p>
<p>“I googled chupacabras, and they weren’t even a thing until like 1995. Showed up in Puerto Rico sucking goats dry. And you’ve got this dude saying he is one when the common wisdom is that it was probably a starving dog with a bad case of mange. But I totally saw his face and that was no human.” She crosses herself. “<i>Pero veo fantasmas, así que no puedo juzgar</i>.”</p>
<p>Chloe narrows her eyes. “Ghosts?”</p>
<p>“What! No. I didn’t say anything about ghosts. What would make you think that?” Ella laughs, high and nervous.</p>
<p>“No, you definitely said something about seeing ghosts,” Chloe counters. “My Spanish is rusty, but I can muddle through.”</p>
<p>“Um,” Ella says. She looks down at her phone. “Okay, first question: is the Devil real, and is he Lucifer?” She looks back up and winces. “Well, our Lucifer, you know….”</p>
<p>Linda returns with Chloe’s coffee, and Chloe takes a long sip before answering, “Yes. Now, ghosts. You said you see them.”</p>
<p>“Question two,” Ella says loudly.</p>
<p>“Nope. Ghosts. Spill.”</p>
<p>“How did you find out Lucifer is, um… Lucifer?”</p>
<p>Linda sits on the couch next to Chloe, leaning over to gently ask, “How long have you been seeing ghosts, Ella?” </p>
<p>“Was it before you went to Rome?” Ella babbles on, determined. “Or, oh, even before that? But I don’t think it works on the timeline. You were engaged to Pierce before that. Unless finding out is what drove you into Pierce’s muscular-but-criminal arms.”</p>
<p>“How about this,” Linda says. “We’ll answer a question you ask, if you answer one of our questions.” She arches an eyebrow and adds, “We’ll be honest if you are.”</p>
<p>Ella pauses and Chloe can see her thinking it over. Eventually, she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.  “Fine, I need to know. So I’ll talk.” She swallows. “I was in a really bad car accident when I was younger. Really wrecked me, I thought I was gonna die—so did the paramedics. And that was the first time I saw Rae Rae.”</p>
<p>“Rae Rae,” Linda repeats. “Your ghost?”</p>
<p>Ella nods.</p>
<p>“When was the last time you saw her?”</p>
<p>“Nope, question for a question.” She narrows her eyes. “How did you find out about… Lucifer?”</p>
<p>“In therapy,” Linda replies. “I asked him to be completely honest with me about who he was.” She laughs self-deprecatingly. “Wasn’t expecting the <i>actual</i> Devil. I locked myself in the office and barely came out. It took Maze sneaking in through a window to finally get through to me. Spent our next few sessions quizzing Lucifer about Hell, Hitler, and Azrael. Did you know the angel of death is a woman?” It’s clear she still finds this knowledge mind-blowing. Chloe can relate.<br/> <br/>Ella’s eyes flick over to Chloe. “He killed Pierce,” Chloe tells her. “We were surrounded by gunmen. I took a shot to my vest that knocked me out cold. When I came to, I wasn’t in the loft anymore. And Lucifer… he went back. I followed and when I found him. He was crouched over Pierce’s body, and the face I saw…” She shakes her head, her terror a distant thing now, barely remembered. Although who could blame her for that reaction? Not even Lucifer had, well, until she tried to poison him. But that’s not a story Ella needs to hear. She’s freaked out enough as it is.</p>
<p>Ella’s gulp is audible in the silence.</p>
<p>“When was the last time you saw Rae Rae?” Chloe asks. </p>
<p>“It was… a while ago. She showed up on a case, but other than that, I haven’t seen her since leaving Detroit. I… I got into a lot of trouble as a kid for admitting I saw her. It was cute at first. Imaginary friends. Coping mechanisms, the doctors said. That sort of thing. But I got older and kept seeing her, and my parents started to worry.”</p>
<p>Linda nods. “Imaginary friends persisting into puberty are a concern for many parents. Normally children grow out of it. But this wasn’t an imaginary friend, was it?”</p>
<p>“Is Lucifer here to, um…. Do I need to be worrying about the apocalypse?”</p>
<p>“Not that I know of,” Chloe replies. “He left Hell because he was sick of it, not because of the end of the world.”</p>
<p>“Phew. ‘Cause if you thought my spiral a few months ago was bad.” She taps her feet on the floor. “No, I really do believe Rae Rae is a ghost. I’m imaginative, but that’s… I don’t have any other explanation.”</p>
<p>“We believe you,” Linda says. Chloe nods. </p>
<p>“You guys.” Ella’s face brightens. “That means so much. No one believes me about Rae Rae.”</p>
<p>Linda leans forward. “We did just have dinner at a restaurant run by a chupacabra, and he comped our entire meal because Chloe is the Queen of Hell.”</p>
<p>“You could still get a divorce. Princess Di and Prince Charles got divorced. There’s precedent,” Ella points out.</p>
<p>Chloe changes the subject. “I was almost attacked by a vampire last night.”</p>
<p>“Whoa,” Ella says. “Vampires, that’s… whoa. I’m having too many thoughts right now. Teenage me is stoked, like, screaming on the inside.” She leans back on the coffee table. “I’ve still got so many questions. How do they fit into society? What do they eat? They can’t be eating people, ‘cause I think we’d notice that.”</p>
<p>“The one last night was from Nebraska, and I was his first attempt at killing a human.”</p>
<p>“A vampire. From Nebraska,” she says before mumbling, “Welcome to Los Angeles, Ella.”  </p>
<p>“It’s a little different when you find out it’s actually real,” Chloe points out.</p>
<p>“My thoughts are pinging around my brain like a demented pinball game.” Ella makes awkward finger guns at Chloe. “Or should I say demonic?” </p>
<p>They lapse into silence. Linda nurses her coffee, and Chloe watches Ella.</p>
<p>She’s taking this better than Chloe had, or even Linda, but she has the benefit of starting lower on the supernatural food chain, and she has friends to explain things and help ease her into this strange new world.</p>
<p>Ella snaps back into herself and shakes her head. “Where’s Lucifer now? Is he really—?”  </p>
<p>“In Hell. Yeah,” Chloe replies. There’s a broken note to her voice that she absolutely resents. “There was a… demon uprising. They tried to take Charlie. Lucifer went back to stop it from happening again.” She laughs, puts her elbows on her knees and leans forward. “The worst long-distance fake marriage ever,” she tells the floor.  </p>
<p>“So you’re just… going along with the Queen of Hell thing?”</p>
<p>“What else can I do, Ella? The rumor is out, and all these beings believe it. California State has a really convincing forged marriage certificate on file because Maze decided it would be 'funny.' I almost got eaten by a vampire last night, and the only thing that kept me from being a snack was pulling the Queen of Hell card.” Chloe straightens her back, pulls on all her classes from her early days of acting and intones, “Do you know who I am?” in the most condescending voice she can manage.</p>
<p>Linda smirks, and some of Ella’s pep returns, sparkling in her gaze. “The bedhead kinda ruins the look, but you’d be an awesome Queen, Chloe,” Ella says.</p>
<p>Chloe rolls her eyes. “I think I’ll pass, thanks.” She pauses. “I’d like him back. I don’t care about the Queen thing. I just want my partner back.”</p>
<p>“The Devil’s a good guy, huh?”</p>
<p>“A little rough around the edges, but that’s the Devil for you,” Chloe replies flippantly. She wants to tell Ella more, to dive into the depths of her regard for him but the words lodge in her throat. </p>
<p>Linda nods. “It’s a whole new world. Chloe is the Queen of Hell, the Devil is in love with a human, and I had a baby with an angel.”</p>
<p>As if on cue, Charlie cries. Linda puts her coffee down and pulls a baby monitor from the pocket of her robe. “Should have seen that coming,” she mutters, pushing herself off the couch. “I better go see to my little angel.” She turns. “And, Ella, we’re here for you. We believe you.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Ella stage whispers. “I’ve never really had anyone believe me before.”</p>
<p>“First time for everything,” Chloe says.</p>
<p>“Girl, that’s for sure.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>“I didn’t think they’d be as excited as they are,” Lucifer says. He leans back against the plastic seat and bounces his knee. “But it’s getting ridiculous. They tried to throw me a bachelor party." He scoffs. "As if I need a bachelor party. And technically, I’m already married. The bachelor party goes before the wedding, not after. But try telling that to demons.”</p>
<p>The roller coaster car tips back and starts the arduous climb to the top of the track. It would take time to get there, as this particular coaster achieved enormous heights. Its passengers could count on plummeting into a series of seven loops, all progressively smaller and tighter. Lucifer finds it exhilarating.</p>
<p>The human soul in the car next to him clutches the restraints. He’s a middle-aged man. Brown hair, brown eyes, and has the look of someone who spends his time hunched over a calculator. He sobs as the roller coaster click-clacks its way to the top.</p>
<p>"Did you know they put on a fashion show for wedding attire? It really was quite something. Alexander McQueen's best work, I must say. Although I'm not certain the detective would be interested in wearing any of it. Armor really doesn't strike me as her thing." </p>
<p>"We're going to die," the man moans.</p>
<p>"You're already dead," Lucifer points out. "Although I do enjoy the creativity of your Hell loop. A roller coaster that kills its passengers through G-force alone. And here you are dying over and over again for all eternity. It's simply sublime. Kudos, Paul.”</p>
<p>The man thrashes in his seat, clawing at the harness as the roller coaster approaches the top. "We have to get out. Do you know what G-forces can do to the human body?" His panicked voice is shrill, on the verge of hysterics.</p>
<p>"Well, yes. How many times do you think we've ridden this coaster together?"</p>
<p>Paul gapes at him.</p>
<p>"Now, back to my demons." The roller coaster crests the top of the track, pauses, and begins its death-inducing plummet to the bottom. Paul screams and flails as the coaster goes almost vertical.</p>
<p>"I'm not sure what to do about them," Lucifer continues, raising his voice over the wind and the screaming. "I keep telling them we were partners, which is true." They round into the first loop. Paul's head snaps back, and he gasps for air. "And I don't want to dissuade them. They aren't harming anyone, and they've latched onto the idea so hard I feel they might take it out on the detective were they to find out it's a sham."</p>
<p>The coaster zips into the second loop. Paul's hands are rigid on the restraints. </p>
<p>"I simply thanked the old families for their congratulations. The demons were already convinced before that. I can't have them going to Earth and trying to hurt the detective or the spawn. I came back to Hell to keep them safe."</p>
<p>The roller coaster roars into the third loop. Lucifer closes his eyes and enjoys the wind on his face. The ride feels rather like flying. Back in the days when he'd indulged. When the land only housed Father's rather wretched lizards and the skies had been mostly empty. Testing out his wings and seeing what they could do when pitted against air and wind had been glorious.</p>
<p>He misses that. The thrill of flight. The light of his stars. Hell is so dark. And it doesn’t matter what Hell loop he’s in—he knows the light of his stars. He knows what they feel like pricking against his skin. Nothing in Hell feels the same. Fake stars, in fake worlds, torturing real souls, who had no idea how good they had it in life.</p>
<p>He desperately wants to bring Chloe stargazing. Somewhere in the desert. He'd bring wine and cheese. They could lay on the hood of his Corvette, and he could introduce her to the creations he was most proud of.</p>
<p>The roller coaster twists into the seventh loop. Paul's body is limp next to him, covered in a red rash and seeping from burst blood vessels.</p>
<p>Lucifer sighs. Humans really are quite fragile.</p>
<p>The coaster levels out onto the straightaway and heads back to where it started, ready to repeat its deadly course.</p>
<p>Paul snaps alive next to him. "What? Where am I?" He struggles against his restraints. "Who are you?" </p>
<p>“Now, back to the problem of my demons,” Lucifer says and settles in for the ride.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Phew. Sorry for the delay. The holidays are a terrible time to get anything done. Even though it's not like I'm going anywhere, cause I'm not. But between holiday baking and a bit of a Covid scare (all is well, tests are negative) this kinda got put on the back burner for a few weeks. Thanks for y'all's patience!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Shoot your shot with the bride</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chloe’s quasi-normal life comes to a screeching halt one summer morning as she’s crouched down looking into a large pottery kiln and the baked body of Angelina Williams.</p><p>“Kinda smells like bacon,” Ella says. The camera flashes. “Wanna grab something to eat on the way back? I know this place that makes amazing breakfast sandwiches. The maple sausage is to die for.”</p><p>“Really, Ella?”</p><p>“What, I’m hungry!”</p><p>“Detective Decker,” someone says. </p><p>“Oh, hey, buddy, this is a closed scene.” Ella jumps up and gestures with her camera toward the police tape and the crowd of people craning their necks to see what's going on. “I need you to step back.”</p><p>The man is striking, tall and pale with a willowy build. His hair is so blond that it’s almost white, and his eyes are pale blue. He’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and has the look of an extra on a fantasy tv show who hasn’t gone through wardrobe yet. </p><p>He arches a pale eyebrow at Ella, unimpressed. “I will not be spoken to in such a way. Your Majesty, I ask that you control your court.”</p><p><i>This is a thing that’s happening</i>, Chloe thinks. At a crime scene, over a murder victim. Because this is her life now. “And you are?” she asks, willing him to turn around and walk away. </p><p>“An emissary of His Eminence, Domhnaill, Lord of the Los Angeles Fae. I request an audience.”</p><p>Chloe sighs. “Ella, I think I need to…”</p><p>“No problem. I’ll finish up here and give you the rundown.” Ella turns back to the crime scene with obvious effort and Chloe can feel the curiosity burning through her. </p><p>“Thanks.” She gestures for Mr. Important, the emissary of the Lord of the Los Angeles Fae—and wasn’t that a title—to follow her. She wonders if she could get away with calling him LLAF. </p><p>She attempts to stifle the laugh that bubbles up as a little voice sounding painfully like her incorrigible partner says in her head, “I doubt he’d appreciate being LLAFed at.” </p><p>“My lady?” Mr. Important inquires. </p><p>“It’s nothing. Just a silly thought.” </p><p>She ducks out of the building, the LLAF’s emissary at her heels, and finds a quiet spot by a section of abandoned wall. Scrubby weeds struggle to grow in the California sun and one lone palm waves dry fronds overhead. She straightens her posture, pushes her shoulders back, and attempts to appear regal.</p><p>The man bows, his palms pressed together. “Your Highness, My Lord extends an invitation to join him for dinner.” He proffers an envelope. “He considers himself a loyal vassal of your lord King as a resident of Los Angeles County and looks forward to the honor of your presence.” </p><p>Lucifer should be here to deal with this. Fae are crashing her crime scenes for dinner party reservations and she’s having to step out because she can’t tell them to buzz off. It’s infuriating, but what option does she have. So she accepts the thick envelope. The paper is clearly expensive, and it's sealed with honest-to-God wax. She doesn’t open it. </p><p>“I shall return to your”— his lip curls—“<i>place of labor</i> tomorrow for your reply.”</p><p>“How about we meet at Lux?” Chloe replies. “At 6 p.m.?” </p><p>She doesn’t need supernatural oddballs accosting her at the precinct in front of her coworkers. They don’t need more reasons to snub her with Lucifer gone.</p><p>Mr. Important bows, hands together. “As you will, Your Majesty.”</p><p>Chloe wrinkles her nose and makes a face at his retreating back, and then realizes that this isn’t some suspect or even her partner doing something childish with a piece of evidence. She’s swimming in shark infested waters and the sharks are circling.</p><p>The invitation gets tucked into her pocket and she heads back to the shop, rejoining Ella at the kiln just in time to intercept Dan who’s looking down the street with interest. “What’s with Legolas over there?” </p><p>Chloe exchanges a look with Ella, whose eyes are wide. Chloe shakes her head, hoping Ella catches the hint and doesn’t say anything. “Nobody important. Thought he might have seen something, but it’s a dead end.”</p><p>Ella laughs, high and noticeably fake.“You know how it is with the high-end photoshoots in rundown areas? It’s the new craze. Put on some couture clothes. Pose somewhere gross. Abandoned warehouse chic.”</p><p>Somehow Chloe resists the urge to slap her hand over Ella’s mouth. </p><p>“Uh, sure,” Dan replies. “You okay, Ella?”</p><p>“Yep, everything is fine,” Chloe interrupts. “Now. The scene?”</p>
<hr/><p>“Decline it,” Maze says.</p><p>Trixie’s reply is fast and slightly condescending. “She can’t do that; it would be an insult. You know how the Seelie Fae are, Maze.”</p><p>“Ugh, fine, you’re right.”</p><p>Chloe raises an eyebrow at her daughter. “The question is, how do you know how the Seelie Fae are?”</p><p>Trixie hunches her shoulders and carefully positions delicate candies in a gift box. The sugar butterfly flutters its wings, irritated at being handled.</p><p>The purple pixie, the one that glistens green like a beetle’s wing when light hits it just right, looks up, twitters at Chloe, and sticks out its tongue. </p><p>“No lip from you,” she tells the creature. Trixie manages to communicate with the pixies almost effortlessly, while Chloe still can’t figure out what they’re saying. As far as she can tell, they enjoy trying to push her buttons, almost as much as her nearly adolescent daughter. Her daughter, who still hasn’t answered the question. “Well?” She cocks an eyebrow and purses her lips, waiting for Trixie to spill the beans. </p><p>Trixie mumbles something Chloe can’t quite make out. </p><p>Chloe taps her fingers on the table. </p><p>“Lucifer has books,” Trixie finally says. “I flip through them when we check on the kitchen sometimes.” Her dark eyes sparkle as she perks up. “He has this really cool one on the Seelie and Unseelie courts. I kinda... borrowed it.” </p><p>Chloe inhales. Holds the breath, counts to five, and lets it go. </p><p>“I put it back,” Trixie says hastily. </p><p>“We’re going to talk about going through other people’s things later, young lady.” </p><p>“But aren’t they half your things now?” Trixie asks, dark eyes wide. </p><p>Chloe narrows her eyes, well aware of what angle her daughter is trying to work. She puts the conversation with Trixie aside; there’s no use getting mad about it. She’s always encouraged Trixie to read—she just hadn’t expected her to tackle a how-to guide on the Fae that Lucifer had been keeping tucked in his bookshelf. Maybe she should just be happy Trixie is reading above her grade level? She rubs her forehead and turns back to Maze. "So what am I supposed to do?" she asks. "You know I didn't ask for this.” She doesn’t mean for it to be as pointed a comment as it is, but it’s the truth. </p><p>"You can't stop it," Maze says. She twirls a karambit around her finger and reaches for a box of candy with her free hand. She sets the knife down as the orange pixie dives in, handing off tiny chocolates to its compatriots. "It was out of your control before you even realized.” Her eyes flash up to Chloe’s, a hint of discomfort flickering across her face.</p><p>The door thumps open and Linda tromps into Chloe's living room, Charlie tucked in her arms, a strand of blonde hair in one pudgy fist. </p><p>"No, baby, don't pull Mommy's hair," Linda tells him as she tries to pry tiny fingers from her curls. "It hurts. You wouldn't like it if someone pulled your hair."</p><p>Ella follows her through the door, overloaded with more candy boxes. "I think this is the last of it, Trix." </p><p>She drops the boxes onto the table. The pixies hop on top of the stack and cartwheel off again, wings buzzing to life just before they hit the floor. </p><p>Ella eyes the gamboling creatures. "Respect for the side hustle. Making candy imbued with magic that regular people notice but don’t notice. That's a humdinger of a business."</p><p>Trixie beams. “Trixie and Pixie’s candies are going to be included in gift bags at the Golden Globes!” She bounces on the spot, and the pixies buzz and churr behind her. </p><p>Ella shakes her head and shoots finger guns Trixie’s way. "Remember us little people once you're rich and famous, kid.” </p><p>“So,” Linda says and adjusts Charlie as she sits down. He giggles and cuddles closer. For a brief moment Chloe misses Trixie at that age. When she was the center of Trixie’s world and there was nothing a hug or a kiss wouldn’t fix. “What’s the plan for tonight?” </p><p>“Pack boxes of candy and figure out Mom’s Fae problem,” Trixie replies. She pushes a set of gift boxes towards Ella and Linda.</p><p>"Your Fae problem?" Linda asks, eyebrows raised. </p><p>"Chloe got invited to dinner with the Fae. It's a big deal,” Trixie tells her sagely.</p><p>“Oh, the Fae. Of course.” Linda nods. “Because those are a thing. Silly me.”</p><p>"What happens if I decline it?" Chloe asks, turning her attention back to Maze.</p><p>"They'll perceive you as weak, think they can walk all over you, and generally make your life miserable.” Maze leans back in her chair, flicks her karambit and adds, “And it’ll affect Lucifer’s standing with the Seelie court. They’ll see him as weak because you acted weak.” She points the knife at Chloe. “They’ll take advantage of you, and then everyone else will.” </p><p>"So when you said I could decline it, that's just your way of getting back at me for something," Chloe points out, steely.</p><p>“I’m just presenting options.”</p><p>Chloe sighs. She knows she should be angry, but, well—you can take the demon out of Hell…</p><p>"Sounds like you're going." Ella’s eyes widen. "You're having dinner with the Fae. Oh, man, what are you going to wear?"</p><p>“I’m not even sure I’m going. I have until tomorrow night to accept the invitation."</p><p>Maze sighs and resumes twirling her karambit. "Here's the thing about the Fae. Everything is a negotiation. And I mean everything. If you let Domnhaill call the shots, you're the weak one. So if you accept the invite you need to set the terms. You're the Queen of Hell, so the ball is in your court. You specify where dinner is, who cooks it, what time it's at. And if they come back with changes, hold your ground. They're testing you."</p><p>Chloe watches the pixies twirl in the air over Charlie's head. He giggles at them and reaches for delicate wings with pudgy hands. They twist away from him, laughing, just as he’s about to capture one. "So I'll just think of it like undercover work. I just need them to buy into it enough to back down, right?"</p><p>"They want to know that you aren't going to poke your nose into their business." Maze glares down at a delicate sugar tiger. It snarls back at Maze and nips at her fingers when she tries to touch it. "They did this to Lucifer when he first came to town. Although they were a bit more careful about it. They sent Fae into Lux disguised as humans, casing the joint." Maze leans back in the chair and smirks. "Pretty sure His Eminence sent his daughters into Lux as well, hoping to catch Lucifer's eye."</p><p>“Really? What did they expect to get out of that?” Chloe asks incredulously.</p><p>“A marriage,” Maze says, deliberately slow. “Duh.” </p><p>Chloe wrinkles her forehead, unconvinced her manslut of a partner would have seen it that way at the time. </p><p>"The Fae are all about power," Maze says in reply to Chloe’s unvoiced question. "And what's more powerful than a marriage to the King of Hell? He's an archangel. On the power scale, you don’t get much bigger than that. Well, unless you're God, and He's not the marrying type anymore.” She snorts derisively and leers at Chloe. “Joke’s on them, Lucifer wouldn't have anything to do with those chicks. He was too enamored with humans." </p><p>"So Chloe is going undercover as the Queen of Hell to convince this Domnhaill she's not gonna get all up in his grill," Ella clarifies as she arranges the purring sugar tiger in a gift box and sets a delicately painted cookie next to it. "And that they should leave her alone? Why not just say 'Hey guys, I don't care; you do you’?"</p><p>"Because, <i>Ellen</i>, the Fae don't think like that. They aren't straightforward. If Chloe tells them that, they'll immediately think she's trying to undercut them somehow. So what she needs to do is make an ally. The Fae are pests. It's best to neutralize them from the start."</p><p>"This is nuts," Chloe mutters.</p><p>"I stopped questioning it years ago," Linda replies. She holds Charlie up like a trophy. He giggles. "Angel baby."</p><p>“Still not over that one,” Ella says.</p><p>"You get used to it. I wouldn't have Charlie any other way." Linda draws her son close and nuzzles her nose against his. "No I wouldn't, no I wouldn't! Who's the best most handsome little angel baby? It's you! Yes it is!"</p><p>Maze sighs and looks like she wants to throw herself off a cliff.</p><p>“You need a plan, Mom.” Trixie carefully stacks a finished gift box in a plastic container. </p><p>Chloe taps her fingers on the table. “So,” she says. “Will it just be me and him, or will I be expected to bring others?”</p><p>Maze groans and leans back in the chair dramatically. “The Fae and their stupid etiquette. I’ll retrieve the book Trixie was reading so we can bone up on Fae Etiquette for Dummies, but as royalty, you’d be expected to arrive with courtiers. It’s one of those… pair people up types of situations. You’d sit across from Domnhaill. Your courtiers”—she waves a hand to encompass Linda and herself—”would be paired up with whoever this dipshit Lord brings. It’s really dumb, it’s really boring, and they never mean what they say. It’s always two-faced slippery bullshit.”</p><p>“Can I come?” Trixie pipes up.</p><p>“No, baby, I don’t want to worry about you too. I’ll have Linda and Maze.” Chloe looks around at her tribe, her gaze lingering on Linda and Maze. “Won’t I?”</p><p>“Amenadiel can watch Charlie,” Linda says.</p><p>Maze crosses her arms. “You’re all dumb.”</p><p>“So you’ll be there?” Chloe asks.</p><p>“Well, duh. Clearly you all need me to save your dumb asses.”</p><p>“You say the sweetest things.”</p><p>Maze grumbles, pushes herself out of the chair, and stomps towards the door. “I’ll go see if I can find that book. We can figure out a reply when I get back.” </p><p>The door swings shut behind her.</p><p>Trixie thumps another box on the table. “The candy won’t pack itself, Mom.”</p>
<hr/><p>The penthouse feels vast and empty without Lucifer in it. </p><p>His things are right where he left them so many months ago, but without his larger-than-life presence, his boisterousness, even his brooding, the space is lacking.</p><p>She doesn’t want to be here without him.</p><p>There’s a slight breeze from the balcony thanks to the pixies leaving the slider cracked so they can come and go and not make nuisances of themselves amongst Lux’s staff and customers. They’re all gone now: the pixies, the staff, and the party crowd. The club is closed for a special event. Chloe’s event.</p><p>She hefts her garment bag onto her shoulder and drifts to the large glass doors that lead to the patio. She opens them all the way and steps outside. It’s a dark night for Los Angeles. The moon is a barely visible sliver in the sky and she can see a sprinkling of stars through the ever present light pollution. "This is all your fault," she whispers up to the night sky, to the ears of a god she never believed in until she saw the face of the Devil. She has more she wants to say, more accusations to fling at a careless creator, but the words stick in her throat.</p><p>She bares her teeth at her omnipresent but always absent father-in-law, adjusts the bag, and turns her back on God. She has to get ready. The Fae delegation will be arriving within the hour.</p><p>Lux is the perfect venue. It’s recognized as Lucifer's seat of power in Los Angeles, and having the dinner here gives a whole devilish shine to the proceedings. She doesn’t want them to forget who they’re dealing with.</p><p>The big problem is that Lux isn’t set up as a restaurant. Lucifer never wanted to deal with the hassle that came with serving food, so they’d had to look into catering as an option, and disconcertingly, Trixie, of all people, had a connection they could make use of.</p><p>Sambō-Kōjin was a kami, a Japanese spirit, who was branching out of his native Japan in order to open a high-end restaurant in Los Angeles. The dinner with the Fae was the perfect opportunity for a partnership. Chloe would get the benefit of a Michelin star dinner catered by one of the hottest restaurants in L.A, and Sambō-Kōjin would get bragging rights that he personally served the Queen of Hell and the LLAF. It would be a win-win for all parties—at least she hoped it would be. It still feels wrong and disingenuous to use a title and power that aren’t really hers.</p><p>There’s a part of her that shrivels every time she hears the titles. Lucifer abhors lying. She can’t see him appreciating this.</p><p>Chloe lays her clothes out on the padded ottoman in his closet. She hates to admit it, but she argues with him in her head sometimes. She pleads with him to come back, she tells him she had to do it, but it’s okay, she knows they aren’t really... married. That she isn’t his… wife.</p><p>She just wants her partner back.</p><p>She puts her hands on her hips, looks down at her outfit for the evening, and puts it out of her mind. She needs to be on tonight.</p><p>There are Fae to impress.</p>
<hr/><p>The Fae have already arrived when Chloe steps into the elevator and descends to the nightclub. As a Queen, she waits on no one. She and her entourage will be the last to step into the room, expecting their guests to already be seated and anticipating her arrival. It goes against Chloe’s very American upbringing. She’d been raised to believe that being fifteen minutes early is on time, although her mother would vehemently disagree. </p><p>Her mother would probably tsk and frown at the clothes she picked out for tonight. Her wardrobe was one of the most contentious decisions of the entire process. Linda and Ella voted for a dress, something form fitting and couture. Trixie wanted her to look like a Princess, and Maze thought leather was the way to go. Instead, Chloe goes with something else. She remembers the look on Lucifer's face when he saw her in a suit. So she recreates the style: black suit, plunging red shirt. With every garment she puts on, she feels like she’s putting on armor. The red pocket square is Lucifer’s, and her fingers linger over it as she smooths the lines of her suit. </p><p>She takes a deep breath, clasps her hands, and steps into Lux once the elevator opens, Maze and Linda right behind her. </p><p>The dance floor has been turned into a dining room. Red curtains hang, hiding the bar and the seating beyond the dance floor, and they allow Sambō-Kōjin to create a staging area for the meal. It’s intimate, cozy even. The lighting is dim and the table resplendent.</p><p>The Fae stand as Chloe approaches the table.</p><p>Lord Domnhaill is obvious from the start. He’s a striking man with long gray hair that’s pulled back in an elaborate braid. His skin is olive toned and his eyes are like little chips of obsidian glinting in the low light. The ease of his position, the tilt of his jaw, the assessing way he looks at her, there’s no way he could be anyone but the Lord of the Los Angeles Fae. <i>He seems like a real LAFF</i>, she thinks. At least the dumb joke takes her mind off of the dinner, and she’s able to approach the Fae lord like she’s the one in charge. </p><p>Which she is. </p><p>She offers her hand, palm down. Lord Domnhaill bows over her hand, his cool fingers press against her palm as he brings the back of her hand to his forehead. A customary greeting among the Fae, when one member has higher standing than the other.</p><p>“‘Sup, brah. How’s it hanging?” Lord Domanhaill says with a grimace as he lets go of her hand, and then adds condescendingly. “I believe that is the customary human greeting, is it not?” </p><p>Maze snorts and Chloe, through the sheer act of willpower alone, manages to keep her face from contorting into an expression of astonishment. </p><p>“Lord Domnhaill,” she replies crisply. “Blessings upon your house, and salutations from mine.”</p><p>Lord Domnhaill smiles with what looks like too many teeth that are just a bit sharper than they should be. “I see Lucifer married a human with some refinement.” </p><p>“And I see you’ve picked up some of the local slang,” Chloe says, brushing her hands over the black sleeves of her suit jacket. </p><p>“Ah, not customary then?” </p><p>“Not really,” Chloe replies, internally cringing at how easygoing she sounds when this dinner is more akin to a state affair. But then again, she’d been greeted with surfer speak.  </p><p>“I will have to tell my daughters that they are woefully misinformed on common human behaviors.” </p><p>Chloe shakes her head and takes a seat. The rest of the party follows, Maze on her left, Linda on her right, Lord Domnhaill and his two retainers across from her. Butterflies flutter in her stomach, and the lie of her marriage looms overhead.  She doesn’t let it show on her face. All those acting classes as a child have been strangely useful in her adult life.</p><p>The table is beautifully set. Chloe has opted for something that feels human but with a devilish twist. She’d found the china deep in Lucifer’s kitchen. A black border of thorns surrounds a small gold pentagram in the middle of each plate.</p><p>“My dear Lady," Domnhaill says, leaning back in his chair to regard her like she's a particularly interesting book he’s dying to read, “I must admit, I never expected Lord Morningstar to take a consort.” He chuckles and narrows his eyes. “Tell me how you did it.” </p><p>“I couldn’t get rid of him, honestly,” Chloe replies without thinking. She smiles her thanks at Sambō-Kōjin's server as he pours her a glass of white wine. She swirls the wine, takes a sip and nods her approval. “A girl who used to work here was murdered, and Lucifer was determined to find the killer. I was the detective working the case. We solved it together, and then he just sort of... kept showing up.” She shrugs like it was no big deal, when in reality there was so much more to it. So much frustration, and anger, and love, and confusion wrapped up in one slutty nightclub owner who, surprise, was the actual Devil. </p><p>Domnhaill's dark eyes twinkle, but she can't tell if it's humor or malice reflected back at her.</p><p>“When the Morningstar first arrived in Los Angeles, he created quite the stir.” He says it conversationally, swirling his wine around his glass, but her cop brain can't help but notice he never takes his eyes off her. “The King of Hell leaving his kingdom to take up residence amongst <i>humanity</i> of all things, and choosing a nightclub as his seat? Unheard of!” </p><p>He laughs, and his entourage follows suit. To Chloe’s left, Maze's smile is more like bared teeth.</p><p>“He was considered quite the catch." Domnhaill sighs, almost wistful. "Every family with eligible daughters and sons sent their children into Lux with the hopes of catching the eye of the King.”</p><p>Linda perks up next to Chloe, leaning towards him across the table. “My Lord Domnhaill,” she ventures, bowing her head respectfully. “I didn’t know the Devil was considered marriage material. Is it common for an angel to marry?” </p><p>He spares her little more than a quick glance. His laugh might sound merry if his voice were not so scathing. "You are human, my dear. In my vast experience, not knowing is your default state of being."</p><p>Chloe gapes, astounded. She blinks, closes her mouth, and scrambles for words to defend her friend—hell—to defend her species, but Domnhaill’s condescending attitude hasn’t fazed Linda in the least. She’s already talking, calm and collected. </p><p>"Very human," Linda agrees pleasantly. "But I'm a close confidante of Lucifer's, and he's never mentioned any of that to me."</p><p>Domnhaill turns his gaze back to Chloe, blatantly ignoring Linda. “I sent two daughters and one son to catch his eye. They told me they spent a delightful night dancing with the humans, but that the Morningstar didn’t look twice at them. Too enamored with humanity to notice my heirs.”</p><p>He says the word <i>humanity</i> the way Chloe might say <i>roaches</i>. And then, belatedly, he lifts his glass to her in a mock toast. "Though you are, of course, exquisite for your species. After spending so long with only demons for company, I can certainly see why he was so taken with you."</p><p>“You didn’t answer Linda’s question,” Chloe states, annoyance zipping through her at Domnhaill’s condescending attitude.</p><p>Domhnaill inclines his head slightly. “Angels are not marriageable material,” he admits. "They’re creatures to be feared, carrying about the whims of Him Above with single-minded focus.” </p><p>“And yet you were interested in Lucifer as a potential son-in-law for your children?” Linda asks. </p><p>“I was interested in strong alliances. Marriage is a way to ensure them. The King of Hell would bring immense power and influence to any family fortunate enough to count him among their number.” His eyes glint in the dim light, and Chloe knows without a shadow of a doubt he considers that power and influence wasted on her, a mere human. “I admit, it was a longshot.” </p><p>Servers bustle around the table, dispensing tiny delicate dishes, blind to the strange tension thrumming between the diners. Chloe holds Domnhaill’s gaze and reminds herself he’s in her house, even if it's technically Lucifer’s, and this isn’t an undercover sting. She holds the power here. </p><p>“Lucifer was never interested in marriage,” Maze says, sweet as pie, though Chloe gets the feeling there's a dagger behind her teeth. “He knew your kids were there. He just didn’t give a damn. Not until Chloe walked through the door. Funny, isn't it? The best the Fae court had to offer barely turned his head, but Decker here hooked him on the first try. He was <i>smitten</i>.” </p><p>An exaggeration. He’d wanted to sleep with her, not marry her. And then she’d made for an interesting mystery. The one human immune to his mojo, not that she knows why. But in the moment, she's grateful for Maze's razor-tongued brand of loyalty, and she sends her a smile as dinner continues. </p><p>Maze being here lends weight to Chloe’s strange new position, although she thinks Maze is going along with it because she finds the whole thing hilarious. She knows how much Chloe is floundering, how hard it is to maintain the charade. She notices Maze smirking more times than she can count, but she’s helping, in her own weird way.</p><p>Chloe doesn’t miss the way Domnhaill’s eyes flick her way at Maze’s words. He’s been taking her measure since the dinner started, just as Chloe has been getting a feel for him. He’s pompous and clearly hasn’t spent much time around humanity, even though he claims Los Angeles as a home. So far she’s not finding him to be much of a LAFF. </p><p>Maze goes back to terrorizing her dinner mate, who’s looking rather green under that pale complexion.</p><p>She finds it amusing to watch Domnhaill’s retainer try to make pleasant small talk with Maze. The poor Fae keeps trying to find polite subjects to discuss, and Maze keeps twisting the conversation to talk of torture and her role as Lucifer’s left hand demon.</p><p>They discuss Domnhaill’s many children, and how long they’ve been in America —“Since the humans started dying during the potato famine. We saw an opportunity and took it. Many grand Fae houses were established in that time.”</p><p>They talk about the various inhabitants of the city, supernatural and human, and their associated shenanigans; Domnhaill is full of juicy gossip, and Chloe finds herself pressing her lips together to keep from laughing about as often as she finds herself wondering how many of the rumors could possibly be true. She's asked with great concern how she's adjusting to newlywed life and her new role in the absence of Lucifer—which is a topic Maze shuts down sharply with a few short remarks—and the Fae take an active interest in her job as a detective.</p><p>It’s foreign to them, this idea that she’s still working despite being Lucifer’s consort. They click onto the punishment aspect of catching murderers as quickly as Lucifer had, even though Chloe does her best to explain she isn’t punishing people. She’s amassing evidence, bringing in the suspect, and letting a jury of their peers decide the actual punishment.</p><p>Maze smirks as she muddles her way through that explanation.</p><p>Throughout it all the meal courses keep coming. One delicious dish after another until finally they reach dessert.</p><p>“Truly marvelous,” Lord Domnhaill says after his first bite of the exquisite looking custard. </p><p>"Kōjin is a talented chef," Linda chimes in. "He's opening a restaurant in a few weeks. I'm sure he'd be happy to have your patronage."</p><p>Domnhaill lifts his wine glass towards Linda, apparently far less crabby with a belly full of haute cuisine. "Very astute, my Lady. I will bring my daughters. They are always interested in trying new things, although I do wish they would be more serious. After failing to win the eye of Your Majesty's esteemed husband they decided to try their hand at being… <i>influencers</i> on Augur." His lips twist in distaste. "They're talented young women, and it is disheartening to see them waste their time on "—his glare deepens—"<i>fuck lips</i>."</p><p>"I'm sure they'll grow out of it," Chloe commiserates, resisting the urge to correct him. <i>Please, don't let Trixie do that</i>, she thinks, hoping she won't have to confront picture after picture of Trixie embracing the art of duck lips as she gets older. </p><p>"One can only hope." He perks up, straightening in his seat. "Perhaps I should send them to your court, my Lady. Once I might have offered them as handmaidens, but apparently these things are done as 'internships' nowadays. Maybe it would be possible for you to find them such a position? It would do them good to be around a woman of your status who knows the value of hard work and diligence. It would do them good"—his mouth quirks up at the corner—"to watch you work. In fact, I believe shadowing you could benefit the whole Fae kingdom!" Maze stiffens at Chloe's side. Domnhaill doesn't seem to notice. "New ideas, you understand. What say you?"</p><p>"Ah." </p><p>Everyone at the table is looking at her. Chloe can feel their eyes, and she has a brief, terrifying vision of going to Hiring and HR and telling them they really should include supernatural creatures as part of their internship program. Maybe Lucifer could pull it off, but she's pretty sure that's one she won't be able to sneak by, especially considering her fraught relationship with HR. Margaret, the head of HR, has had it out for her since she and Dan got together. </p><p>Maze solves her problem. “Her <i>highness</i> is quite busy and has no time for spies or Fae intrigue.” </p><p>Instead of being offended, Domnhaill nods and settles back into his chair, he’s acting like it was some sort of test and that somehow she passed. He looks content, and it makes Chloe suspicious. </p><p>"It's unfortunate your Lord Husband was unable to join us this evening," he begins, deceptively airy.</p><p>Here it is, Chloe thinks. Now that dinner is done, it's time to get into the brass tacks of the situation. </p><p>"He had to return to Hell," she replies simply. "He was away too long and the demons need a strong hand." </p><p>Maze shifts next to her, and Chloe can feel her simmering anger.</p><p>"Mmm," Domnhaill hums sympathetically. "Yet he left you here, his new bride, all alone. How you must miss him."</p><p>What is he getting at? She pastes on a polite smile and says, "Needs must."</p><p>“Has the local council been helping you transition into your more… <i>divine</i> duties?” </p><p>Chloe tilts her head and risks a baffled glance over at Maze. A local council? </p><p>“I haven’t worked with the local council,” she admits, wondering how much of a misstep she’s making by admitting to this. </p><p>“A pity, but understandable. The head of the council doesn’t care for angels. All the smiting, you know.” </p><p>Linda shifts nervously. </p><p>"Nothing to concern yourself with, I’m sure. Who needs the council when Lucifer left you with his most trusted demon as your bodyguard?" He clucks his tongue once, apparently impressed. "That is a mighty gift. There are many tales told of Mazikeen of the Lilim. The Morningstar must love you very much, My Lady."</p><p>The courtier sitting opposite Maze whimpers and pushes back from the table a little as Maze bares her teeth. When Chloe turns her head to look she catches a glimpse of... <i>something</i> happening to Maze's face, like something putrid and rotten had flickered across it. </p><p>Delight crosses Domnhaill’s face. He beams at Chloe. "You are not at all what I expected, My Lady. When I heard you were a miracle, a gift from God created for Lucifer himself, I couldn't conceive what that might mean, but now... now I see."</p><p>Her mind blanks. The words buzz in her head and her vision narrows. </p><p>Domnhaill leans forward. "You didn't know?" he asks with a little gasp. She snaps back into her body at his gentle question, but she can hear the frisson of delight beneath his words. <i>Gift. Made for Lucifer</i>. This is why he’s here. "I do apologize. I didn't imagine he would have kept such a thing from his beloved bride."</p><p>She smiles, her expression big and fake, and pulls on every acting class she’s ever taken, every bit of undercover work she’s ever done, and lies for all she's worth. "Of course I was aware, Your Eminence. I don't know why you would think otherwise."</p><p>"Of course, My Lady." Domnhaill laughs, and taps his nose with his forefinger, an acknowledgement of a secret shared. "An absurd assumption on my part."</p><p>“Quite,” Chloe says, hating how much she sounds like Lucifer in that moment. The conversation moves on and she does her best to keep up the banter, but the small talk threatens to turn into white noise. She rubs sweaty palms against her thighs and tries to focus on the suddenly unappetizing dessert in front of her. </p><p>When dessert is finally, blessedly finished, Chloe puts her spoon down, feeling full and queasy and ready for the night to end. A server whisks her plate away. "It's getting late," she says. "Won't the lady of your house wonder where you are?"</p><p>"Divorce can be a beautiful thing," Lord Domnhaill replies. "Alimony, on the other hand." He beams at her. “My ex-wife never did accept that sometimes a man needs variety in his lovers. I’m sure it’s not something you’ll ever have to worry about, my Lady.” Domnhaill’s smile is all teeth. </p><p>“I wouldn’t want to keep you from your lovers' beds,” Chloe replies, itching to run for the door and escape. The walls loom and she can feel her heart pounding, the blood zipping through her veins; her fingers curl and she resists the urge to tear at Domnhaill’s face. She stands. Maze and Linda follow suit. </p><p>Domnaill gestures at his retainers, who rise. "It is quite late. I beg your forgiveness for wanting to spend time in your august presence."</p><p>"No need to apologize," Chloe says as if on autopilot. "I enjoyed the dinner and the conversation. You're an interesting man, my Lord."</p><p>He doesn't need to know he's interesting in the same way a perp is interesting. He doesn't need to know her brain is working overtime to figure out what the hell is going on in his head.</p><p>They go through the formalities of wishing guests farewell. An elaborate Fae ritual where both parties tell each other how the other must get going as it is oh so late but both keep staying and talking and repeating the platitudes. It’s irritating and annoying and Chloe wants to scream they should all get out now. It’s within her right as hostess to kick them out, but she isn’t looking to make enemies tonight.</p><p>She wants to get to the bottom of Domnhaill's comment, and she wants to lie down and sleep forever and forget about everything.</p><p>After the Fae finally leave, she flops back onto her chair as the servers whisk away what’s left of dinner. </p><p>“So,” Linda says into the silence.</p><p>“What did that mean?” Chloe asks, hating how plaintive her voice sounds. “About me being a gift?”</p><p>Maze looks at the ceiling.</p><p>“Ah,” Linda says.</p><p>“Ah?” Chloe repeats back at her. “That sounds like you know something.” </p><p>Linda’s face goes glaringly blank. </p><p>“You do know something,” Chloe accuses. “You both do, or you wouldn’t be this quiet.”</p><p>Linda sits down in the chair next to her and folds her hands in her lap, retreating into Therapist Mode. “You really should be hearing this from Lucifer,” she says.</p><p>“Well, that’s not an option, is it?”</p><p>Maze snorts.</p><p>“Domnhaill is right,” Linda says after a pregnant pause. “You are a gift. Your parents couldn’t conceive, so he sent Amenadiel to bless them. Nine months later, they had a daughter.”</p><p>Chloe gapes. “Why would… that doesn’t make any sense. I’m not special.”</p><p>“But you are,” Linda points out with brutal honesty. “You’re the only person immune from Lucifer’s mojo.”</p><p>She can’t deny the truth in Linda’s word. “So it’s true. I was… made for Lucifer.” The sentence sits on her tongue and she hates the shape of it. Made. A word she’d never given much thought to. She knows her parents had had trouble conceiving and had almost given up when her mother found out she was pregnant with Chloe. But she’d never thought of herself as “made” at all, especially not for someone else. </p><p>
  <i>Made for Lucifer.</i>
</p><p>“I need to leave,” she says.</p><p>“Chloe—“</p><p>“I can’t, Linda. I just… can’t. I need to leave.” She pulls her phone from her pocket and is calling an Uber as she’s halfway out the door. </p>
<hr/><p>Lucifer wanders the corridors. Paul and the death coaster are long behind him. It gets old having to explain the situation over and over again, no matter how exhilarating the ride, so he’s resorted to haunting corridors and other Hell loops.</p><p>His one attempt to return to the palace had been a complete disaster. He’d found his demons bickering, weapons drawn, over what interior design would most please the new Queen. He supposes it was only a matter of time before the glimpses of HGTV in the Hell loops filtered their way into the heart of Hell. They’d even hauled a few designers out of their Hell loops to consult. He’s fairly certain he’d seen Michelangelo wandering about, looking lost and surly. There will be literal Hell to pay if his demons decide to recreate the Sistine Chapel on the ceiling of his throne room. Michelangelo was a fun drinking buddy and a good lay, but Lucifer draws the line at having Dad’s face anywhere in his palace. </p><p>He sighs and turns down a corridor he hasn’t seen before.</p><p>This corridor is a recent addition. New souls arrive daily—not that Hell has days—but with the way time moves, Lucifer likes to familiarize himself with all of its denizens. Every human gets a personal visit from the Devil, even if he may not linger.</p><p>He plasters a smile across his face, adjusts his cufflinks, and pushes the door open.</p><p>Dim lights play across the occupants of the Hell loop. It’s a bus—a party bus if he’s not mistaken, and he rarely is when it comes to human sins. His day is already looking up.</p><p>A woman moans, and he focuses on the couple in front of him. They’re simulacra. Not demons, not the damned, just manifestations that don’t require interaction. Demons can step into their guises, but at most they’re background footage. Except… He narrows his eyes. The simulacra of the blond woman looks familiar. She tilts her head as the simulacra of her companion kisses down her neck.</p><p>“Doctor Linda!” he exclaims, the smirk completely wiped off his face.</p><p>The bus hits a bump in the road, and Linda’s simulacra giggles against the mouth of the young man she’s wrapped around. Lucifer braces his hand against the side of the bus and goggles as Charlotte Richards waltzes down the middle of the bus, an enormous cocktail in each hand. “Charlotte,” he whispers, undone by the sight of her.</p><p>The demon wearing Charlotte's guise flutters her eyelashes at him as she walks past. Lucifer takes a deep breath and reminds himself Charlotte is in the Silver City. She’s not here. She’ll never be here again. He pulls himself together and steps deeper into the party. A young man farther down the bus laughs. <i>Chad</i>, Lucifer decides. He looks like a Chad, tanned and blond and with perhaps one brain cell bouncing around in his head. Chad’s hands wander over the legs and waist of the woman he’s holding up. Lucifer knows those sensible black shoes. His heart clenches as the young man helps the woman down from her vantage point.  </p><p>Chloe Decker laughs, giddy and buzzed, and runs her hands along Chad’s bare chest.</p><p>
  <i>It isn’t her.</i>
</p><p>Lucifer knows this, but seeing her likeness… it feels like being on the rack, his bones stretched to the breaking point. Not that he’s ever been on the rack, but he’s seen it enough to know. The demon wearing Chloe’s visage calls Charlotte's name, and Lucifer misses the conversation as Chad moves out of hearing range. He wanders closer to Lucifer. "Where did we pick you up? You're not part of the water polo team."</p><p>"No. Afraid not,” Lucifer replies, unable to take his eyes from the detective as she and Charlotte speak. Maze, wearing an absolutely ridiculous outfit, storms past and shoves one of the shirtless men out of the door, followed by the others. Chad yelps as he’s tossed out of the bus. The hell loop shifts and Lucifer looks down at the damned soul as he clutches his clearly broken leg.</p><p>"Help me!" Chad cries.</p><p>"I think you're a bit beyond help, Chad.”</p><p>"My name is Tristan," the blonde man says through his tears. “Call an ambulance, come on, dude, help!”</p><p>"Well, <i>Tristan</i>. How do you know the rather lovely detective in the bus?"</p><p>"You gotta help me man. My leg... I think it's broken. I won't be able to compete if my leg is broken."</p><p>Lucifer sighs and waves his hand. The loop disintegrates into ash and reforms as the interior of the bus. Chad-but-actually-Tristan helps Chloe down from the skylight and smiles his megawatt smile at her as she caresses his chest and laughs. Charlotte Richards ambles by and hands Chloe a drink as Tristan heads Lucifer's way. "Hey," he says. "When did we pick you up?”</p><p>Lucifer waves a hand and the loop freezes.</p><p>“What the fuck, dude,” Tristan says, and gawks at the frozen people around him.</p><p>Lucifer circles the little group of frozen women. “How do you know these women?” he asks.</p><p>Tristan looks up from poking Miss Lopez’s frozen cheek. “Do you have superpowers or something?” His eyes widen and he whispers, “Can you stop time?”</p><p>“No, that’s my brother.” Lucifer brushes his hand over the detective’s hair. She’s wearing an atrocious pink shirt with her face on it. Clearly, with the presence of Charlotte Richards, this was her abortive bachelorette party. The one that had inspired her to break up with Pierce.</p><p>He’s such a fool. They could have had so much time together. They could have been more than partners. He should have told her who he was, what he was, in such a way that she would have believed him.</p><p>“These women,” Lucifer repeats.</p><p>“Yeah, right. That one—” he points at Charlotte “—was going to drop the charges against the team if we showed up and had a good time for her friend’s bachelorette party.”</p><p>“Dearie me, Charlotte.”</p><p>“I don’t even know their names,” Tristan says. “They’re all hot, there’s plenty of alcohol, and bonus, no charges.”</p><p>Lucifer flicks a blonde strand of hair over Chloe’s shoulder. He plucks at the sleeve of the pink floral button down that’s sticking out from under her garish bachelorette t-shirt. “Detective, what were you thinking? These are pajamas.”</p><p>“So, uh,” Tristan gestures at the bus. “Are you going to start time again? I’d really like to get out of these charges. And hey, you can always shoot your shot with the bride. She is ready for it, man.”</p><p>“I’m afraid those days are well past,” Lucifer says. Regret settles in his gut and he wishes beyond anything that they weren’t. There was so much he wanted to do and see with Chloe by his side, and do to her. “If I were to… shoot my shot, as you say, I’d be putting everyone in danger. Especially her.”</p><p>“...Oh,” Tristan says lamely. “Bummer.”</p><p>“Indeed. Although with the state of my demons these days…” He shakes his head. “They are rather enamored of her.”</p><p>“D-demons?” Tristan stutters.</p><p>“Mmm, yes.” Lucifer looks back at the young man. “You’ve died, and you’re in Hell. Set to torture yourself for the rest of eternity.”</p><p>“And who are you? If I’m in Hell, that means…”</p><p>“I’m the Devil. Lucifer Morningstar. Although it’s Lucifer the Morningstar if you want to get technical about it.” </p><p>Fear flickers over Tristan’s face and Lucifer smirks as he watches the boy look hopefully at the bus exit. </p><p>“Go ahead, give it a go. It doesn’t matter,” Lucifer says. “No one leaves.”</p><p>Tristan inches towards the door. Lucifer rolls his eyes and waves his hand. The scene snaps back into life. Fake Chloe continues her conversation with Fake Charlotte, Fake Ella joins them, and Fake Mazikeen tosses Tristan out the door. Lucifer follows. He steps over the crying man and opens the door of the nearby taco shop. He steps out into the swirling ash of Hell, leaving the detective and this small slice of her life behind.</p><p>He has no place in it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Whew, it's been a month! Didn't mean to go this long, but such is life. Hope y'all enjoy and massive massive thank you's to my betas!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. May your marriage bed be a happy one!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is the chapter where the "Despot-on-Despot Action" tag means something. It's not overly explicit, but I wanted to throw the warning out there.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chloe returns to work.</p><p>She doesn’t want to at first. She wants to stay in bed and sleep if it means silencing the clamor in her head. She wants to rage and cry and tear her life apart.</p><p>But she has a daughter and responsibilities, and she is, at her core, a workaholic.</p><p>Linda calls. And then calls again. She leaves voicemails that Chloe ignores. A part of her wants to talk, but her emotions are a tangled jumble, and rage simmers low in her belly. </p><p>Maze is the one who’s impossible to avoid, especially when she swings by the precinct with a bounty. She deposits the tattooed man who is twice her size at Detective Lawrence’s desk. The bounty rubs a hand across his wet eyes and breaks down into a tearful confession while the entire bullpen watches in rapt fascination.</p><p>“Uh, thanks?” Detective Lawrence tells Maze.</p><p>“Whatever. All I care about is the check.”</p><p>She saunters past a gaggle of gaping unis and throws herself into the chair across from Chloe’s desk. Her boots thump onto a stack of files. “What’s up, Decker?”</p><p>“Maze,” Chloe acknowledges without looking up.</p><p>“Whatcha doin’?” Maze asks.</p><p>“Since when do you care?”</p><p>Maze holds up her hands in a universal gesture of surrender. “Chill. I come in peace. Linda’s been worried.”</p><p>“Oh, so you’re checking up on me only because of Linda.”</p><p>“I worry too.”</p><p>“Really,” Chloe challenges flatly.</p><p>“A little bit,” Maze admits.</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>“Okay, look. The miracle thing. It’s stupid. Lucifer didn’t even know until his mom figured the whole thing out and tried to use it like a wedge. She didn’t like how close you two were getting. Why do you think he ran off to Vegas and married Candy?”</p><p>Chloe looks up and blinks. “His mom?”</p><p>Maze nods. “Yeah, Mrs. God got herself stuffed into Charlotte’s hot body. It was a whole thing until Lucifer cut a hole in existence and sent her off to her own universe. Charlotte got ‘her get out of hell free’ card, and everything went back to normal.” Maze’s eyes roll back, and she shifts in her seat and moans obscenely. “She smelled so good.” </p><p>“Wow,” Chloe says. “God’s married.” </p><p>“Was. Nasty divorce.” Maze’s smile is predatory. “Never could break that woman. Tried all the tricks I knew, and she never cracked.” </p><p>“Wait. God and—Goddess got divorced, and she ended up in Hell?” </p><p>Maze arches an eyebrow and leans forward like she’s passing on juicy gossip. “Only cell in Hell with a lock. God literally threw away the ex.” </p><p>Chloe blinks. It’s almost too big. She knew Lucifer talked about his mom, and with Charlotte Richards—no, the Goddess—saying she used to be married to Lucifer’s dad. The pieces are coming together except…</p><p>Where does she fit in all this… celestial nonsense?</p><p>And does this mean Dan—her ex-husband Dan, slept with God’s ex-wife? GOD’S EX-WIFE slept with the father of her child. </p><p>Her body freezes up, and her vision narrows. The implications, for a moment, lay themselves out like pieces of a murder board. </p><p>She forces herself to pack the knowledge away, to compartmentalize it in her brain where she’s sure she’ll end up freaking out about it in the middle of the night a few weeks down the road. </p><p>There’s still the big unanswered question.. </p><p>“Why would God make me?”</p><p>Maze shrugs. “Dunno. Neither did Lucifer. That whole Candy freakout was partly ‘cause he was worried about your free will or whatever. He didn’t think your feelings for him were real.” She laughs. “He ruins everything; it’s pretty great.”</p><p>“Pretty… great,” Chloe repeats, her mind whirling. </p><p>That whole period of time makes a strange kind of sense now. They were so close to getting together and then he’d… shut off. She’d recovered from being poisoned, and he was in Las Vegas marrying a showgirl. At the time, she’d thought he couldn’t take seeing her so close to death, but now… </p><p>Are her feelings for him genuine? Are they hers? Or did God program them in like she’s some sort of human robot made just for Lucifer? Has everything been one big sham? All those moments between them—just God manipulating them into something? She sounds like Lucifer. All these paranoid ‘it’s my Dad’s fault’ rants, but can she really blame him now? Knowing what she knows?</p><p>And what’s worse, a part of her doesn’t care. She still wants him back, still wants to kiss his dumb handsome face.</p><p>She can’t shake him. She’d walked into Lux the night of Delilah’s murder, and the Devil slithered into her life—she hadn’t realized just how far until he was no longer in it. And now he haunts her, this specter of what she can’t have. </p><p>Maze sighs, like coming to see Chloe was an enormous task she didn’t want to do, like Chloe’s emotions are more disgusting than the graphic torture she’s performed in her past. Oddly, it’s reassuring; the more disgusted Maze acts, the more it seems like she cares. “Listen,” Maze says, “talk to Amenadiel and Linda. It’ll help. Linda’s freaking out. She feels like she pushed you into accepting this Queen of Hell thing.”</p><p>“That was my decision,” Chloe says firmly. “I didn’t see a way around it.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, tell that to her.”</p><p>“Hey, Chlo,” Dan interrupts, appearing at her desk clutching a stack of files. “Body dropped. Lieutenant wants your help.”</p><p>Chloe stares at him a moment. He looks exactly the same as always, but now that she knows he slept with an actual Goddess… God’s ex-wife… the Devil’s <i>mom</i>, she’s never going to look at him the same way again. </p><p>“I-uh.” </p><p>“You okay, Chlo?” </p><p>She can see Maze’s shit-eating grin out of the corner of her eye and tries to pull herself together. “Yeah, sorry. I already have a case I’m working on.”</p><p>He nods apologetically. “The Lieutenant knows. But this one’s at Chris Seever’s house.”</p><p>For a second, Chloe blue screens. Blinks. And then— “Chris Seever? My old co-star from <i>Hot Tub High School</i>? That Chris Seever?”</p><p>Dan nods again. “Yup. We think he might respond better to questioning from you.”</p><p>“Right,” Chloe says. She shuffles her files into a stack and tucks them away. “Let me get my stuff.”</p><p>“I’ll just entertain myself here,” Maze says.</p><p>“Oh, no you don’t. I’m not coming back to a rearranged desk. Been there, done that.” </p><p>“Fine.” Maze thumps her feet to the floor and stomps towards the exit.</p><p>Chloe sighs.</p>
<hr/><p>Chris Seever wasn’t just her co-star in <i>Hot Tub High School</i>; he was her character’s main love interest.</p><p>They’d been young and beautiful, and the world had seemed big and shiny. She’d dreamt of winning awards and working with the Who’s Who of Hollywood. Chris’s aspirations had been to be one of the biggest names in blockbusters. She’d once thought they’d make the perfect Hollywood couple.</p><p>But in the end, they’d taken separate paths. He’d used the raunchy teen comedy to catapult himself into stardom, and Chloe had moved away from acting altogether.</p><p>Chris had been charming when they'd filmed together. Handsome and charismatic with movie star good looks: blond and muscular with bright blue eyes and a megawatt smile. It had been years since she'd spoken with him, even though she’d seen his name headlining bigger and bigger movies over the years, his face plastered everywhere.</p><p>And now it’s a murder bringing them back together. </p><p>Chloe peers at the body of Rodrigo Velazquez. He’s tangled in a rosebush, as if he’d dove in headfirst, only his legs sticking out. </p><p>Ella flutters around the rosebush, taking pictures while her team gathers evidence.</p><p>Chloe stands up, brushes her hands over her slacks, and glances back at the multimillion-dollar mansion. It’s large in a way she doesn’t particularly care for. Too open, too grand, too… sterile. It reminds her of the houses in Lucifer’s real estate portfolio and how she doesn’t really care for those either. They don’t feel like a home.</p><p>She’s thought of moving. She lives with a prepubescent child, a surly brownie, three overactive pixies, and now Anna, who’s moved into her spare bedroom as a live-in nanny. Her apartment is overwhelmingly busy and feels cramped in a way it never did before. She’s thought about taking advantage of one of Lucifer’s houses, but she just can’t.</p><p>Dan sighs next to her. “Getting him out is gonna be a real pain in the ass.”</p><p>To put it mildly. There’s no way this body is coming out easily, and Chloe doesn’t envy whoever has to do it. </p><p>"I want her arrested," a familiar voice shouts from the distant patio.</p><p>"I did not kill that man!" a woman insists in a thick Italian accent. </p><p>Chloe cocks an eyebrow. "Who's she?"</p><p>“She’s the one who found the body,” Ella says from behind her camera. “Screamed, and everyone else came running. It was a whole thing.”</p><p>Chloe glances back up at the patio. Chris is beside himself, gesturing at the woman, cursing. Anger suffuses his handsome face, and for a moment Chloe wonders if he’s going to pass out.</p><p>Dan cuts his eyes Seever’s way and touches Chloe’s elbow. "Get statements from Seever. Hopefully, seeing you will distract him enough that we can get his story." </p><p>“He’s not going to bite,” Chloe mutters. </p><p>“No, it’s fine. I think he’ll respond better to you.” </p><p>“And this opinion has nothing to do with your massive man crush?” </p><p>Dan purses his lips together, and Chloe grins. She couldn’t care less about Chris Seever’s movies, but Dan’s been a sucker for him since his first action movie came out. He’d dragged Chloe to the theater, and she’d spent half the movie watching him react instead of watching the explosions and fight scenes. He’d even asked what it was like to kiss the man. </p><p>She pulls out her notepad and heads across the sprawling green lawn to interview her irate former co-star.</p><p>"Chris Seever!" God, it’s strange to introduce herself to a man she’s kissed. "I'm Detective Decker, and I'd like to ask you a few questions."</p><p>"I want her arrested! Trespassing! Murder! Get her out of my sight!" Chris rages.</p><p>"Sure. After I ask you a few questions." She keeps her tone even and calm.</p><p>Chris turns his glare on her, and she watches recognition dawn. He blinks, and his eyebrows draw together thoughtfully. He stares at her like she’s an alien from another planet. "Do I know you?"</p><p>"I was your co-star in <i>Hot Tub High School</i>," Chloe replies, tapping her pen on her notepad. "When was the last time you saw your gardener alive?"</p><p>"Chloe Decker?" Chris gasps. He blows out a loud breath and runs a hand through his hair. "Oh man, I wondered what you’d gotten up to, and now..."</p><p>"Yeah." She shrugs, trying to keep her cool. They’d been close once, she and him. “Now I'm a homicide detective for the LAPD. And I really need to ask you a few questions."</p><p>"Okay, yeah, sure. Shoot."</p><p>“Right. When was the last time you saw your gardener alive?” </p><p>“Um, uh, a few hours ago. I looked out the window and saw him on the lawn.”</p><p>“Where were you when the body was found?”</p><p>“I was, uh. I was with, uh. Kelsie. In the study.”</p><p>Chloe can’t help but think it sounds like a game of Clue. Would Colonel Mustard with a pipe show up soon? “And Kelsie is?”</p><p>“His intended,” the Italian woman shouts from the other side of the patio. A uni holds out a hand to keep her from plowing over. She grasps the uni’s forearm and shouts, “Kelsie Woodward.” A blissfully happy expression crosses her face, and she lets go of the uni to flutter her hands over her heart. </p><p>Chloe raises an eyebrow at Chris.</p><p>He glares at the woman and lowers his voice. “She’s my co-star for an upcoming movie, okay? We were just hanging out, going over lines. But the paps have manufactured this… this <i>stupid</i> ‘they’re secretly in love’ storyline, and now I’ve got stalkers who JUST! WON’T! STOP!” </p><p>He shouts the last bit at the woman, an outpouring of fury. Then he turns his attention back to Chloe. “You know how it is.” </p><p>“Yeah, I do,” Chloe responds. She’s had way more experience with fame than she’s ever desired. Although bride of Satan is a whole new spin. “Where is Kelsie? She still here?”</p><p>“Inside. She, um… she’s kinda weirded out by dead bodies.”</p><p>“I get it. And your friend over there? Who’s she?”</p><p>“I’ve never seen her before, but this is private property. I want her charged for trespassing.”</p><p>The woman smiles at Chris and waves. She tilts her head back, holds her hands upwards, arms straight, palms towards the sky, and starts muttering words too fast for Chloe to catch. She doesn’t think it’s Italian, although it was maybe something related… Latin, maybe?</p><p>“O…kay.” What is it with LA and weirdos? </p><p>“We’ve had a few problems with overzealous fans ever since my Netflix series came out,” Chris explains, scowling at the mumbling woman. The mention of his latest project seems to perk him up a little, though. “Have you seen it? I wasn’t completely sold on the idea at first, but Georgio is such a brilliant director, and the source material is incredible. Our streaming numbers have been insane, but social media is a cesspool, and it’s gotten really bad. I turned my Twitter over to a social media manager and tried to forget about it, but the crazies keep tracking me down.”</p><p>“I don’t watch much TV these days,” Chloe admits. “But I’ll check it out.” </p><p>She places her hand on his forearm. He’s twitching and jittery, but his nerves don’t seem suspicious, not really; it’s an understandable reaction to finding the body of someone you know on your property. “I know how frightening this can be. What can you tell me about the victim?”</p><p>The interview goes about how she expects. The victim has been Chris’s gardener since he bought the place a few years back, coming over multiple times a week to maintain the grounds and do landscaping work. It’s a fairly removed relationship, and Chris hasn’t had much to do with his employee. Throughout the entire interview, their Italian trespasser keeps mumbling and smiling.</p><p>“I’m going to talk to our friend. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll need to talk to Kelsie next.”</p><p>Chris nods and retreats further on the patio, crossing his arms and staring down at the crime scene. He was never someone who had much patience, and that doesn’t seem to have changed; she can see him bouncing on his feet. He always needed to be doing something.</p><p>Dan is leaning over the body with Ella. She leaves them to it, happy to play point on this case, and approaches Chris's erstwhile stalker.</p><p>"Detective Decker, LAPD. And you are?"</p><p>"Cinxia Papsinas."</p><p>"Cynthia," Chloe repeats.</p><p>"No, no. It is pronounced <i>Cinxia</i>." </p><p>The woman's fingers twitch, and she smiles apologetically. "Perhaps now is not a good time for details, no?"</p><p>"Can you tell me what you’re doing here, Ms. Papsinas? You do realize this is private property?”</p><p>"I am a fan. He is just so handsome. I had to come."</p><p>"So, you’re stalking him."</p><p>Cinxia shakes her head emphatically, her dark curls bouncing around her face. "No, no, I came to deliver a blessing. The rumors spread about his intended. And they are such a lovely couple. I only wanted to wish them well in their marriage and bless the marital bed."</p><p>The uni standing behind Cinxia coughs into his hand, disguising a laugh. Chloe doesn’t blame him, but she’s got to be professional, so she fixes him with a hard look. The uni shuffles back a few steps, giving her and Cinxia some privacy.</p><p>“And you found the body after you broke in to bless the,”—she pauses in an attempt not to sound dubious—“marital bed?”</p><p>“Yes—I came around the side of the rosebush and—” Cinxia narrows her eyes. ”Do I know you from somewhere?" she blurts.</p><p>"A dumb movie,” Chloe replies. There’s no way she can escape <i>Hot Tub High School</i> when she was just standing next to her former co-star. “But I'm asking the questions."</p><p>"Oh, I know of that movie." Cinxia bounces on her toes as if the excitement is too much. "Chlo-e,” she says slowly, tasting Chloe's name as if it were wine. Her face sharpens, and she suddenly looks older than her 30-something years. "You are she, yes? <i>Persephone</i>?"</p><p>The unis giggle. Chloe narrows her eyes, and they back up a few steps. "I don't know what you're talking about, but I really need you to focus on why we're here."</p><p>"You are her," Cinxia breathes, like she’s just discovered the secrets of the universe. "My lady." She covers her heart with her hands and bows low.</p><p><i>Okay, so this is a thing that's happening</i>, Chloe thinks to herself as one of the uni’s leans over, hands on his knees, and starts laughing. </p><p>"I had heard Hades found his Persephone, but I never dreamed the beautiful girl in the movie with my darling Chris was one and the same.” She claps her hands together. “Now here you are! And I am meeting you!”</p><p>"Yup. Here I am, just doin’ my job," Chloe replies through gritted teeth.</p><p>Dan trots over to the patio, catches her eye, and tilts his chin up in an unspoken question. She waves him back to the crime scene. There’s no way she wants him involved in any… supernatural bullshit. Well, more than he already is. He slept with God’s ex-wife… No. No. She needs to focus. “So, Cinxia, you’ve heard about…”</p><p>“Yes.” Cinxia bounces on her toes. “Hades taking a wife is all anyone can talk about back home, and when I heard your name…” She sighs and clutches her hands to her chest. “<i>Chloe</i>. Fertility, blooming. These are things Hades values in a companion. And here you are. It was meant to be. Life and death intertwined.” She knits her fingers together and grins.  </p><p>“And… how do you know all this?” Chloe asks.</p><p>“I am a goddess,” Cinxia says. “Marriage is my domain. I am little worshipped and little known now, but I manage.” She smiles at Chloe and it’s as if Cinxia’s eyes are seeing through her, to the parts of herself that are secret and private. “I see your husband’s love in you.” Cinxia bobs her head. “But there is a sadness, too. You are parted from each other. I can see your yearning for your other half.” She nods at the necklace Chloe is wearing, the one she’s yet to take off. “Hades has given you a mighty boon.”</p><p>Chloe swallows and resists the urge to touch the bullet necklace. “Still not on topic,” she croaks out.</p><p>Cinxia’s face falls, and she blurts out the rest of the story. It’s not much help, but hopefully forensics will turn something up that will give them a bit of a lead. </p><p>The unis take Cinxia into custody, but it’s as if she doesn’t even notice, still staring at Chloe like she hung the moon and lit the stars. “My blessings upon you, My Lady,” Cinxia says as she’s led away. “May your marriage bed be a happy one!”</p><p>One of the unis snorts as Cinxia is escorted away. </p><p>That’s a story that will spread around the precinct later. She wants to keep the… supernatural aspects of her life separate from her work life, but they keep creeping together.</p><p>Not that she ever had a hope of keeping them separate. She crossed that line when the Devil became her partner. </p><p>“What was that all about?” Dan asks when she rejoins them.</p><p>“Oh, she’s a bit of a fan.”</p><p>He chuckles knowingly. “<i>Hot Tub High School</i>, huh?” </p><p>Chloe exhales. “Yeah, something like that.”</p>
<hr/><p>Chloe goes to Linda’s after work.</p><p>She tells herself she’s going because she needs someone to talk to and she’s tired of ranting at the Devil in her head. But she really goes because she’s looking to pluck the angel Linda lives with.</p><p>Linda’s quiet street is in an affluent part of town where jacaranda trees shade the sidewalk. Chloe parks her car and stares up at the purple blooms. </p><p>She’s here to confront an actual angel about the fact that God made her for the Devil. There are moments when she wants to find a small place, curl up in a ball, and never come out again. She wants to punch Lucifer in his smug handsome face, kiss him, hold him, and never let him go. And what kills her, what truly gets into her deepest fears, is that these feelings… they're not hers. Not really. Were her emotions manufactured by God for some unknown reason?</p><p>Was anything between them real?</p><p>Was it all just some farce? If Lucifer knew... why had he gone along with it? He'd always dug his heels in about free will and to just throw all those principles out the window because he liked the gift God gave him... she had to know.</p><p>Chloe walks up the driveway, knocks, and waits. She squashes her emotions down as far as she can.</p><p>"Chloe!" Amenadiel says as he opens the door. He smiles, his entire demeanor warm and joyous. "Linda and Charlie are sleeping, but I can get Linda up for you."</p><p>"No, no. I, um, it's you I came to talk to."</p><p>Amenadiel steps outside and closes the door quietly behind him. "What can I help you with?"</p><p>"Did you know?"</p><p>"Know what?" Amenadiel asks, his voice calm.</p><p>"About me. Me being a miracle."</p><p>"Ah."</p><p>"So you know."</p><p>Amenadiel cocks his head. It’s a slightly bird-like move, something she’s seen Lucifer do as well. A hysterical laugh attempts to burble its way out of her throat. Is it an angel thing? A sibling thing? She thought she was a normal person, and this is what she gets to deal with. </p><p>Being a miracle sucks. </p><p>“Father tasked me with delivering the blessing to your mother.”</p><p>"A blessing?" She squints at him, full of suspicion. "So you and my mom..." Chloe gulps, feeling slightly sick. "No. No way. She wouldn't cheat on my dad."</p><p>"No, no-no-no," Amenadiel waves his hands like he’s trying to fend her off. "It's not like that. I found Penelope in a bar. We talked, had a drink. I blessed her, and she never even knew. She became pregnant with you shortly thereafter." He reaches for her shoulders. Chloe bats his hands away. "Your father is your father. Do not doubt your mother’s fidelity to John Decker.”</p><p>"But why…?" Chloe swallows. "Why me? Why her? I don't understand."</p><p>"To be honest, neither do I. I have always done what my Father commanded, or what I thought my Father wanted. Out of all my many siblings, Lucifer is the only one who questioned, and when he was cast out, when he Fell... it was a warning to the rest of us. Don't question Father, or you may end up like Lucifer." He spreads his arms in a ‘what can you do’ gesture. Like he just let God dictate everything and went along with it like a good little soldier.</p><p>Except... isn’t that what he is? Amenadiel is a good soldier, an obedient son, and his dad is GOD. Who is Chloe to question that?</p><p>She’s just one little human dealing with millennia of celestial bullshit.</p><p>"And me? Where do I fit in all this? Do I have..." She shakes her head, feeling ridiculous. "Do I have superpowers or something? I dunno...laser hands?"</p><p>"Nothing like that—at least, not that I know of. Although many of my siblings would consider being immune to Lucifer's charms a superpower."</p><p>"I thought he was disgusting when we first met," Chloe admits, thinking back to all the bad one liners, oozing smarm, and oversexed confidence she'd had to wade through when she first met Lucifer.</p><p>“Exactly, Chloe. No one thinks that. Everyone he meets gets so wrapped up in their own desires they can’t see the real Lucifer. You’re the only one who’s been able to see beyond that.” Amenadiel smiles, the angel in him shining through. “Don’t you see? That is your power.”</p><p>"And your Dad? He's not manipulating me? Not making me feel things that aren't real?"</p><p>“You’re human,” Amenadiel says it like it means something, something beyond the obvious, and when Chloe glares at him he chuckles. “That’s not a slight, Chloe. It means free will is the gift that God gave to all of humanity. Your choices are yours. No one else’s.”</p><p>"Not even God's?” Chloe says with dripping disdain.</p><p>"Not even God's."</p><p>"Okay." She scrubs a hand over her eyes. "Okay. I'm not sure how I feel about this. I don't like it." She glares up at Amenadiel. "But there's not much I can do about it." </p><p>He nods. </p><p>"So next question. Is my miracle status why all of Los Angeles thinks I'm the Queen of Hell?"</p><p>Amenadiel's eyebrows skyrocket. "What?" </p><p>"Linda didn't tell you?"</p><p>"Explain."</p><p>"The entire supernatural community thinks Lucifer married me and I'm the Queen of Hell. I've had to deal with werewolf clan disputes, a vampire tried to mug me, a mermaid keeps trying to give me parenting tips, and there’s a naga in my yoga class. Oh, and the real kicker? I found out about my miracle status because the <i>only</i> person who saw fit to tell me was Lord Domnhaill of the Los Angeles Fae during a super bitchy dinner with a bunch of weird rules, so yeah, the rumor is pretty well out there, Amenadiel. How is it you don't know?"</p><p>"I don't interact with the non-human community, Chloe. Angels rarely do."</p><p>"And Lucifer does?"</p><p>“He always has. Look, it’s complicated, and angels try to stay out of it. Lucifer is the one who steps in when the non-human denizens of Earth stray too far out of bounds. Angels have dealt with them in the past, but it didn’t go well.” Amenadiel purses his lips. “Does Lucifer know about this rumor?”</p><p>"I don't think so. Maze started it as a prank, but it got way out of control.”</p><p>“He should know.” He rolls his shoulders and two dark gray wings unfurl. Late afternoon sunlight burnishes the feathers, and Chloe eyes them warily. The feather edges glint in a way they shouldn’t, as if they’ll cut if she touches them.</p><p>"What good will telling him do?" she asks.</p><p>"He should know."</p><p>"But will it change anything? Or will it just be salt in the wound? Sorry, Lucifer, you’re fake married to your partner because a bunch of supernatural creatures say so, but you're still stuck in Hell, so have fun?" </p><p>Amenadiel folds his wings against his back. </p><p>"And what is he going to do?” she continues. “Tell everyone they were wrong and they were sucking up to a human for no reason? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I get the feeling most of these beings see themselves as a step above humanity." </p><p>That attitude bled through in her interactions, not with every being, but with enough that she’s noticed them looking at her as if she’s some strange creature. A human who outranks them, too inconsequential to have so much power.</p><p>"He's got enough to deal with, Amenadiel," she finishes, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I don't want him worrying about me."</p><p>"Are you sure, Chloe?"</p><p>"I am. It's not fair, but it's the hand we've been dealt." She laughs brokenly. "Just, you know, back up the farce."</p><p>"I can do that," Amenadiel replies. "If you change your mind..." he trails off.</p><p>"I'll let you know."</p><p>They stand there awkwardly for a moment, the ghost of Lucifer between them. Chloe scuffs her shoe along a crack in the concrete. "I'll, um, get going now."</p><p>Amenadiel dips his head, smiles, and disappears back inside.</p><p>Chloe returns to her car, where she stares down the street and idly watches one of Linda's neighbors walk by with two rotund corgis.</p><p>Where does she go from here?</p>
<hr/><p>Lucifer is certain his demons are out to torment him. He can feel them plotting. When Belphezel shows up at his elbow, simpering and batting his eyelids, Lucifer knows he’s walking into a trap. </p><p>His demons aren’t nearly as sly as they think they are.</p><p>"Through here, Lord Morningstar. I think you'll find this soul particularly interesting." Belphezel throws open a door and giggles behind his hands.</p><p>Lucifer steps into chaos.</p><p>Discordant music blares through the loop and Lucifer cringes as he takes it all in. The loop is a dance hall from what looks like the 1950s, and the soul it belongs to is immediately obvious. The old woman watches the tableau in front of her with horror on her face. </p><p>And what a tableau it is.</p><p>There’s a small stage on one side of the hall, packed with musicians popular in life and damned in death. Jim Morrison plucks at an ill-tuned guitar. Next to him, John Lennon warbles into a broken microphone, his voice quaking with terror. A popular harpsichordist from the 1600s plucks at his instrument, every note off key. And they’re not the only ones.</p><p>Lucifer tilts his head and cocks an eyebrow. The song is familiar but played so badly as to be barely recognizable.</p><p>"Dearie me," Lucifer says, "<i>The Devil Went Down To Georgia</i>? Really? Must we?"</p><p>The demons are immune to the racket. Once he manages to look away from the musical trainwreck on the stage, he can tell his demons are pleased with themselves. They’re mingling and chatting happily with each other.</p><p>A lopsided table in the corner groans under the weight of demonic food and drink. Ash cakes, entrails, and even a punch bowl. A demon holds Marie Antoinette by the arm and leans her body over the bowl so that blood pours from her severed neck. Her head rests on the floral tablecloth next to the punch bowl. Her decapitated head blinks at Lucifer and mouths, “<i>Mon cherie, s’il te plait, aidez moi</i>.” </p><p>A second demon upends a jar of green liquid smelling like alcoholic sneakers into the punch bowl and follows off with a bag of ash. The resulting concoction is stomach-turning. Belphezel dances his way to the food table, fills a glass, and presents it to Lucifer with a bow, chirping, "Only the best!" </p><p>“Delightful,” Lucifer replies, deadpan.</p><p>A guitar squeals as John Lennon topples off the stage. Lorzigal giggles and waves to the crowd of demons, making a rude gesture at the fallen musician. Her poodle skirt twirls as she kicks up a heel, flirtatious in her guise of a 1950s teenage girl. The crowd of demons clap half-heartedly. </p><p>"Lord Morningstar," she says into the microphone. High-pitched feedback reverberates through the room. She sticks out her tongue and tries again. "Lord Morningstar, we, your demons, want to extend our happiness and congratulations to you, our King, upon your marriage." </p><p>She clutches her notes in her hands and beams at Lucifer. All the demons are smiling at him, a fairly disconcerting thing to see when all of them look like slightly uncanny valley teenagers from the 1950s.</p><p>He lifts his glass of punch toward her in acknowledgement.</p><p>Lorzigal bounces on her toes. “You’ve been King, Lord, and Father to us, to me, as long as I can remember. We missed you terribly when you lived amongst the humans, but we understand now. We understand you had to leave to wed our new Queen, the Lady Detective.” </p><p>The demons cheer, and Lucifer smiles halfheartedly. If Chloe ever finds out about this, she’s going to kill him. She could do it, thanks to his little invulnerability sitch. And he just might deserve it.</p><p>"We look forward to welcoming the Lady Detective into our midst when the time comes," Lorzigal says. "Congratulations, My King!"</p><p>"Congratulations!" the demons around him shout.</p><p>"And now," Lorzigal says into the microphone. She glances off stage. “Our gift to you.”</p><p>The demons back up so that Lucifer is standing in the open space on the dance floor. He fingers his glass of punch nervously. This is going nowhere good. He knows his demons well enough to be assured of that fact. </p><p>He’s proven right as soon as he catches sight of the table being wheeled in by grinning demons. It’s covered by a hideous floral tablecloth and on top…</p><p>“Oh no,” Lucifer says, horrified and intrigued at the same time. They’d really outdone themselves. “You shouldn’t have. You really shouldn’t have.”</p><p>“It’s for you!” Belphezel cries. “We had a good think about what to get you. And in human custom, it’s traditional to put on a show for the groom-to-be.”</p><p>"We studied!" Lorzigal chirps, appearing at his other elbow.</p><p>“Yes, that much is obvious,” Lucifer tells them, morbidly intrigued. “You know bachelor parties happen before the wedding, yes?”</p><p>"You were on Earth," Lorzigal points out. "How could we throw you a bachelor party if you weren't here?"</p><p>"I concede the point." </p><p>The two humans on top of the table move, prodded into action by the howling demons. One of the humans, a slender man with a small square mustache, whines out a gargled “nein.” His companion on the table, an imposing block of a man, grits his teeth and pushes back against him. The two have been stripped of their clothes and face away from each other. </p><p>“Ass to ass!” The demons cheer. “Ass to ass! Ass to ass! Ass to ass!”</p><p>“Isn’t it amazing?” Lorzigal enthuses. “We would never have thought of this on our own, but Gelph saw this scene playing on a TV in a Hell loop, and we just knew you would love it.”</p><p>"It is... certainly something."</p><p>The doomed soul the Hell loop belongs to gargles something unintelligible. He wouldn’t have even heard it if his hearing wasn’t of the more celestial variety. The woman clutches her pearls, her eyes wide as two of the twentieth century’s most notorious genocidal lunatics do unspeakable things to each other while egged on by cheering teenagers in puffball skirts and duck’s arse hairdos.</p><p>Two demons make out, grinding against each other. Other demons follow suit. The motley collection of musicians launch into their own songs, all at once. A damned chorus of all their greatest hits sung through clenched teeth and horrified tears.</p><p>Lucifer stands in the middle of it, bloody drink in hand, and looks for the exit. Demons pack in behind him, dancing and gyrating and grinding.</p><p>He needs to get out.</p><p>When he sees a familiar face lurking amongst his demons, he perks up and gestures for the demon to come closer. Zergal slithers through the gyrating bodies and executes a quick bow once he’s made his way to Lucifer’s side.</p><p>“Did you ever reply to Gwyn about the Wild Hunt?”</p><p>Zergal sips his Bloody Marie and frowns. “Yes, my Lord. I sent your excuses.”</p><p>Lucifer looks skyward. “You’re the one demon in Hell that’s punctual, Zergal.”</p><p>“Thank you, Lord Morningstar?” Zergal replies, a questioning note to his voice.</p><p>“Send another missive. Tell Gwyn I’ve changed my mind. I’ll be joining him on the hunt.”</p><p>“As you will, my Lord.” Zergal ducks away and makes for the exit. Lucifer turns back to his frothing demons, the two dictators, and the stage full of damned musicians. He has to give his demons credit, their ability to torture him is unmatched.</p><p>Mazikeen would be so proud.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The scene reenacted by the two depots (I'm sure you can guess who they're meant to be, may they rot forever) is the end scene from <i>Requiem For A Dream</i> involving Jennifer Connelly's character. I've only seen that movie once, but wooo, it'll stick with you (absolutely fantastic soundtrack though). </p><p>I didn't originally intend to tackle the Miracle Reveal in this fic, but then 5A hit and it became something that really needs to be dealt with if Lucifer and Chloe are to have any kind of relationship, so I tried to add my own spin to it. I really do love that the show went there and allowed Chloe to be angry about it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. World Domination!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Giving out contact information during the course of a case is standard procedure. Chloe’s used to the families of victims reaching out to her for updates.</p><p>Having her former co-star contact her multiple times a day is something else entirely.</p><p>Chris Seever is obviously used to getting his own way, much more now than when they co-starred together on <i>Hot Tub High School</i>. Back then, they’d been happy and grateful to have won the roles, and Chloe had been terrified she’d screw it up and be recast.</p><p>She keeps him as updated as she can, but there’s only so much information she has to give. The case is ongoing; they’re looking through the evidence and going over witness statements. Yes, Cinxia is being brought up on trespassing charges, but she’s cooperating with police and is a foreign national.</p><p>But his calls are like clockwork. Every three hours.</p><p>Her phone buzzes right on cue, and she sighs.</p><p>“Again?” Dan asks, frowning at the murder board they’ve put together for the Seever case. They're under pressure to close this quickly and keep one of the hottest stars in Hollywood free from scandal.</p><p>She picks up the phone. </p><p>“Decker. Yes, Chris, hello.” She catches Dan's eye and makes a sour face. “Yes, we’re working on it. No, still no changes. These things take time. I’ll keep you informed.” </p><p>She hangs up on him mid-protest.</p><p>“I think he likes you,” Dan teases.</p><p>“Pfft. It's not that. We were friends once, and he’s just worried.”</p><p>“Right,” he drawls, smirking.</p><p>“Shut up.” </p><p>“I didn’t say anything!”</p><p>“You didn’t have to.” Chloe sticks her hands on her hips. “Your face said it all.”</p><p>Dan tries to rearrange his expression. If that's the best he can do, she thinks, he needs to up his game. He still looks smug.</p><p>“Okay, so,” she says, desperate to change the topic. “I’ll pick up Trix from school, and we’ll meet you at Lux. The Golden Globes party starts at five.”</p><p>“How did Trixie end up running a candy empire again?”</p><p>“She’s self-motivated. At least this way she’s not getting in trouble at school for illicitly selling Green Tea Kit Kat bars, or whatever.”</p><p>“She’s selling more than just Kit Kats, Chloe.”</p><p>“She got bored and started making her own candy," Chloe continued. "She’s having fun and making some money. She even has a savings account.”</p><p>“I saw the amount on that contract, Chloe. That’s not chump change.”</p><p>“She’s doing well.”</p><p>“I thought we’d be selling Girl Scout cookies, not… whatever this is.”</p><p>“Life is strange like that,” Chloe replies. In all truth, she has the same reservations Dan does, but Trixie’s thriving. She’s excited, enthusiastic, and starting to see a life for herself as she approaches adolescence. Chloe wants to preserve that childlike curiosity and wonder as long as she can. Her own mom had tried to force Chloe into a mold that hadn’t really fit. She doesn't want to make the same mistake with her own kid. So Trixie is leading the way with Chloe there to provide the security and protection she needs as she ventures out into a big new world.</p><p>She can’t wait to see what her little monkey does next.</p>
<hr/><p>The phone rings as she’s halfway home. The number is familiar by this point. Chloe blows a frustrated breath upwards, causing her bangs to flutter. She picks up. "Chris, hi, nothing has changed in twenty minutes." </p><p>“Chloe. Someone’s here.” Chris draws in a shaky breath, and his terror is palpable over the phone. </p><p>“I’m on my way. Lock the doors and stay put.” She flips her sirens on and presses down at the gas as the cars in front veer out of her way.  A quick call to dispatch lets them know she’s on her way and they should send backup. </p><p>The mansion is eerily quiet when she arrives. She presses the buzzer on the gate. Nothing. She presses again. Someone should be in the house to let her in. Chris, his housekeeper. Someone. He knew she was coming. She pulls her phone out and tries to call him. The phone rings and Chloe curses as no one picks up. </p><p>Unsettled, she puts her car into park and approaches the gate. She pushes, and it slides open easily. Chloe frowns, but sidles through the opening, her hand on her weapon.</p><p>When she reaches the house, the front door swings open at her touch. </p><p>"Chris Seever," Chloe calls. "It's Detective Decker."</p><p>Silence.</p><p>She unholsters her side arm and steps into the house. The massive living room is pristine and there’s not a pan out of place in the well-appointed kitchen. She peeks at the patio and pool. Yellow police tape flutters farther out in the yard.  </p><p>Something bangs upstairs and someone shouts. </p><p>Chloe ascends the stairs as quietly as she can, asking herself why she’s putting herself in this situation. Backup is on the way, and going in alone is against procedure. This is why cops have partners. </p><p>Except her partner is in Hell. </p><p>And Chris said he needed her help. </p><p>Something thumps again. She darts down the hallway, gun at the ready, but finger off the trigger. </p><p>Chloe pushes the door to the master bedroom open.</p><p>Empty. </p><p>There’s an open suitcase on the bed, its contents tossed about the room as if someone had rifled through them. Chris was supposed to be at a hotel. What was he doing here, and more importantly, where was he? </p><p>Sirens wail in the distance. </p><p>She turns on her heel, gun sweeping the room, looking for whoever made the noise.</p><p>But she doesn’t have a partner, there’s no one to watch her six. </p><p>Someone barrels into her, and the force of the impact knocks her off her feet. Her gun flies out of her hand. A large man, his pallid face contorted in rage, grabs her collar and shakes her. Chloe scrabbles at his arms, desperate to free herself. </p><p>Luck is on her side. Her arm collides with his nose and it crunches audibly. The man loosens his grip, shocked, and it's enough that Chloe has the leverage she needs to kick him off.</p><p>He staggers backward, and Chloe climbs to her feet. </p><p>“You’ve ruined it!” he snarls, a fresh pulse of blood coating his fingers as he clutches his broken nose. “He was sullying her. I had to stop him!”</p><p>Chloe holds her hands up and takes a step toward her gun. “Where’s Chris?” </p><p>The man pulls his hands away from his face and lowers his head like he’s a bull ready to charge. He sizzles with nervous energy and ignores her question, babbling to himself and tugging at what’s left of his thinning hair. “I heard the rumors. I couldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t. She would never do that to me. Kelsie, my Kelsie with this—this—abomination of a man.” Spittle flecks his lips as he spits the words. “No. I won’t stand for it. He doesn’t get to touch her! Nobody gets to touch her! She’s mine!“</p><p>Chloe shifts. Her gun is so close. Her heartbeat hammers in her ears, and she wonders if he can sense her fear. “This is about Kelsie,” she says. Because of course it is. She’d interviewed the actress, thinking she was tangential to the case. Kelsie had been beside herself, upset at seeing a dead body, freaked out that Rodrigo’s death had happened while she’d been in the house just a couple hundred feet away. </p><p>The man paces like a tiger in a cramped cage. His fingers curl and uncurl over and over again. “I’m—I love her—I’m like her guardian angel. I keep her safe. I’m—I keep her safe from dirtbags.” He sneers at her, wild-eyed, teeth clenched so hard a vein throbs in his jaw. “I’m not gonna let a dick like Chris Seever take advantage of her!”</p><p>“What did you do to Chris?” Chloe asks. </p><p>“Nothing!” the man wails. “He’s not here. But when I find him, I’ll do to him what I’m going to do to you!” He throws himself at Chloe, arms outstretched and fingers ready to rend and tear. </p><p>Chloe kicks up a leg, rocketing her foot into the man’s sternum. His breath whooshes out, and he stumbles backwards and his arm flails upwards. It’s all the opportunity she needs to grab him by the arm and spin him so he lands face first on Chris’s enormous bed, his face planted into the open suitcase. The man wheezes and coughs as she pulls out her handcuffs and restrains him. </p><p>She stumbles backwards and puts her hands on her knees, breathing in and out, trying to calm her racing pulse. This had been a close one, and it had been stupid to walk in without backup. </p><p>“Chloe!” a masculine voice shouts, and she can’t help but resent it. The voice should have a British accent and be calling her “Detective.” </p><p>Chris barrels through the door wielding a baseball bat. </p><p>“Hey,” Chloe says. “You didn’t answer your phone.” </p><p>“I—ah,” Chris says and licks his lips. He lowers the bat and openly gapes at her, and Chloe is sure it’s quite the scene. Her hair a tangled mess, jacket askew, the cuffed perp face planted in the suitcase, blood from his nose smearing on Chris’s clothes.</p><p>“Detective Decker!” A uni shouts from downstairs. Chris blinks and clutches at his baseball bat. </p><p>“Up here!” Chloe calls. Unis pour into the room, and it turns into a maelstrom of checking the perp over, escorting him downstairs, and taking statements. Throughout all of it, Chris’s eyes track her like he’s seeing her for the first time. It makes her want to vanish into the walls, or slip out of the house and back to her car. </p><p>Which she almost manages. </p><p>“Hey, Chloe, wait,” Chris says, and grabs her arm. It’s a loose grip, one she could break easily, but after being attacked, she isn’t in the mood to be touched. She raises an eyebrow, and Chris releases her arm. “I can’t thank you enough. That was amazing.”</p><p>“Yep, that’s my job.”</p><p>“Seriously though, I just... wow. You saved me.”</p><p>“I’m not going to let some crazed fan kill you, Chris.”</p><p>“Definitely appreciate that.” He runs a hand through his hair and attempts a flat smile. “I just... all because Kelsie and I were cast in a movie together. Rodrigo didn’t deserve this. He was just doing his job, supporting his family.” </p><p>“I know,” Chloe replies. “I wish life were more fair. But Chris, he’ll get his just desserts. I know it.” Because there is a Hell, and its King knows how to dispense justice. </p><p>Dan’s voice echoes from down the stairs, reverberating through the marble tiled foyer, and Chloe jolts. </p><p>The Seever case is Dan’s. He’s lead detective, and being newly reinstated into his old position means that he needs to focus on processing the perp and submitting paperwork. Neither one of them are going to be on time to pick Trixie up. </p><p>Trixie, who’s counting on them for her big party tonight at Lux. </p><p>She bites her lip, pulls out her phone, and texts Maze.</p><p>“So, um, can I treat you to dinner or something tonight?” Chris says. Chloe looks up in time to catch the movie star smile he’s shooting her way.  “I, ah, don’t really want to be alone tonight after, um...” He trails off and gazes into the distance, slightly dazed.</p><p>“Do you have any friends or family you can stay with?” Chloe asks. She glances at her phone, hoping for a reply from Maze. School pickup is imminent.</p><p>Chris fingers the baseball bat he’s yet to let go of.  “I… my family and I aren’t close,” he admits. “And the friends I have… You know how the industry is, Chloe.” He shakes his head, and the insecurity and awkwardness in his posture is a shock. It’s a strange look on a man who Chloe’s only known as assured of his place in the world. </p><p>“I do know how it is,” Chloe admits. Her days of being stalked by the paparazzi are long behind her, but she’s spent plenty of time on Augur scrolling through the #QueenSighting tag. “I’m sorry we had to meet like this again. I wish it was under better circumstances.” </p><p>“I dunno,” Chris replies, a brighter tone to his voice. “Seeing you again… it’s been pretty great, Chloe.” </p><p><i>Oh no</i>, Chloe thinks as little warning bells ring in in her head. Dan’s right. He’s interested. And the last thing she wants is to lead someone on about a relationship that won’t happen. </p><p>“Yeah, it has been great. But you know how it is. Time flies and you get involved in work and get married and life.” Her laugh sounds awkward to her ears, and she hopes he picks up on the most important part of that sentence. </p><p>“Oh. <i>Married</i>. I, ah… I hope you didn’t take that as a come on.” </p><p>Thank God, Chloe thinks, he picked up on it. A moment of panic follows the thought. Should she be thanking God, even in her thoughts, when she’s literally married to the Devil? </p><p>“No, no. Not at all,” Chloe replies, knowing full well it had been a fishing expedition at the very least. </p><p>“You’ve been great, Chloe. I know I can be a bit… intense, but seriously. Thank you. I… I don’t want to think about what might have happened if you hadn’t swooped in and saved my bacon.” He shuffles and curses under his breath as he pats his pockets for his phone. </p><p>Chloe waffles. They’d been friends once, and for a moment, something more. Hollywood chews people up and spits them out, and if things had gone differently, it might have been her with the big career instead of Chris. “Listen,” she says. “I know how it can be after you’ve gone through something like this. Pack a bag, go to the hotel, but if you find you don’t want to be alone, there’s a Golden Globes party at Lux tonight—you know, the club on Sunset? Come by and have a drink.” </p><p>Chris ducks his head. “Thanks, Chloe. I’ll-I’ll think about it.”</p>
<hr/><p>There’s a line forming when Chloe arrives.</p><p>The event is private: a celebration of Trixie &amp; Pixie’s. Lux isn’t exactly kid-friendly fare, but Amenadiel jumped at the chance to close Lux for a private party. Personally, Chloe thinks he’s just happy he doesn’t have to host. </p><p>Most of the attendees are the Who’s Who of the Los Angeles supernatural set. But there are enough humans in attendance that glamours are a requirement to get through the door.</p><p>Now that she knows what she’s looking for, she can see through them. There’s a hint of uncanniness that ripples at the edges, unnoticeable if you don’t know what you’re looking for. Thankfully, Lucifer’s bouncers are adept at spotting a glamour, which comes in handy for nights like this. </p><p>Heads turn as Chloe steps out of the elevator, having changed into a shimmery green pantsuit in the penthouse. Guests crowd Lux’s ornate stairway, and Chloe smiles as they part to let her through. The reaction reminds her of how Lucifer used to move through Lux, all eyes on him and the crowd gravitating to his presence. She smiles and nods at the assembled creatures once she steps onto the main floor of the club. </p><p>The leader of the Orange County werewolf clan dips his head as she passes the corner booth. By the packed bar, a siren influencer she vaguely recognizes from Augur purses her lips in a perfect pout, the men around her gaze on in rapt fascination as she takes selfie after selfie. </p><p>Giant screens mounted around the room showcase the glitz and glam of Hollywood as celebrities make their way down the red carpet. Chloe does a double take as Keanu Reeves waves at the cheering crowd. There’s a shimmer of glamour clinging to him, and Chloe raises her eyebrows in mild surprise. </p><p>A tug at her elbow redirects her attention. “This is so cool,” Trixie says, bouncing giddily in her neon pink skirts. She pulls on Chloe’s arms and drags her over to Dan, who has commandeered a booth near a set of chattering witches. Trixie slides in next to him, cuddles up close, and rubs her cheek against his arm.</p><p>“Hey, monkey,” Dan says, smiling down at her. “Told you mom would be on time.” He takes a sip of his drink. “What’s next now that you’re taking over Hollywood?”</p><p>“World domination!” Trixie chirps.</p><p>Dan laughs. “Maybe in a few years, kiddo.” He slides a Shirley Temple over to Trixie. “This is quite the party. I thought it would be some of your friends and a few teachers.”  </p><p>Trixie takes a long slurp of her Shirley Temple. “There was a lot of interest, Dad.” </p><p>“And these are all people you know?” Dan asks. It’s a seemingly innocent question, but Chloe knows when Dan is probing. They’ve both been detectives too long for her not to pick up on what Dan is like when he’s fishing for information. </p><p>“Most of them know Mom.”</p><p>Dan looks around the room at the various disguised supernatural creatures and milling humanity. “Are they from your Hollywood days, Chlo? I thought you weren’t hanging out with your actor friends anymore.”</p><p>“Mom is the Queen of Hell,” Trixie says. She blows bubbles into her Shirley Temple.</p><p>“Queen of Hell? Come on, Trix, I know you miss Lucifer, but isn’t that a bit much?”</p><p>Chloe catches Trixie’s eye and shakes her head: not now. How does she explain this to Dan? How can she tell him about the Devil and angels and creatures that go bump in the night and how they sometimes enjoy a good martini, judging by the disguised ogre sipping at one by the bar? Dan has his faults, but he comes from a solidly Catholic family. His parents go to Mass every weekend. Revealing who Lucifer is isn’t going to be a small thing. </p><p>“Look! There’s my science teacher!” Trixie points and bounces.</p><p>Trixie’s teacher couldn’t have arrived at a better time. Dan’s questions get swept to the wayside as Trixie waves her science teacher over. </p><p>Ms. Jones is in her early thirties with dark hair in a pixie cut, pale skin, and an out-of-place expression. “When you told me you were having a party for Trixie’s business, I didn’t expect this!” she says, and slides into the booth next to Trixie. </p><p>“It’s going really well!” Trixie replies, practically vibrating in place.</p><p>“I can see that,” Ms. Jones says and looks around at the crowd, in all their glittering finery in a slight daze. </p><p>Chloe leaves Trixie babbling away at her shell shocked teacher and exits the booth. She can feel Dan’s eyes on her as she maneuvers through the crowd. Or would have maneuvered through the crowd if they weren’t parting like the Red Sea. She smiles and says hello, shaking hands and delivering cheek kisses as necessary.</p><p>Padma from yoga bounces out of the crowd and delivers a crushing hug, her mother and sisters trailing after her. Chloe doesn’t miss the whispering and jealous giggling once she moves on.</p><p>Shaggy grins and waves at her from the corner, happily chatting with other members of his clan. He seems back in their good graces now that he no longer has the Orange County Clan on his tail. The Los Angeles Clan and the Orange County Clan glare at each other, but no one dares start a fight in Lux.</p><p>Lucifer may be absent, but his presence looms large.</p><p>She stops at the bar and smiles at Patrick as he slips a Malbec her way.</p><p>“Yo, Decker,” Maze says, emerging from the crowd. “Quite the party you and the li’l human put together.”</p><p>“Trixie’s worked really hard. I’m proud of her.” She turns, wine glass in hand. “Thank you, Maze. You didn’t have to pick Trixie up, but you did, and I’m grateful.”</p><p>Maze stares down her nose at her, apparently wrong-footed. </p><p>“Truce?” Chloe clarifies. “I’ve been mad about the situation, and I don’t think that’s doing either of us any good.”</p><p>Maze jerks her chin up. “I deserved it.”</p><p>“I miss having you as a friend, Maze, and l’d like to put this behind us.”</p><p>Maze sticks out her hand and Chloe clasps it with her own. </p><p>“We should make a blood pact,” Maze says, pulling Chloe in tighter.</p><p>“Thanks, but I’ll pass. I already married Satan.”</p><p>Maze laughs and lets go. She lounges against the bar. “This is the busiest I’ve seen Lux in months.” She looks Chloe up and down appreciatively. “Club owner looks good on you.”</p><p>“Don’t you dare.”</p><p>Maze grins wolfishly.</p><p>“Oh hey,” Chloe says. “Have you ever thought about candy making?”</p><p>Maze raises her scarred eyebrow.</p><p>“Trixie wants to find someone who can work with molten sugar. Seems like something a demon would find interesting.”</p><p>Maze licks her lips. “Burning humans. Now you’re talking.”</p><p>“No, you don’t burn them. You get the sugar hot and shape it…” Maze’s smile widens. Chloe huffs out an annoyed breath. “You know what, never mind. Google it.”</p><p>“Is that an order, Your Majesty?”</p><p>“I would never dream of ordering you around,” Chloe replies. She knows Maze well enough, that directing her to do anything is like shooting yourself with a loaded gun. </p><p>“Good. I’m not your demon.”</p><p>“No, you’re my friend, Maze.”</p><p>Maze grunts an acknowledgement as her gaze slides past her shoulder towards the entrance. “Isn’t that that guy from that big movie? The one with the terrible knife skills…”</p><p>“I haven’t watched anything for months. Too busy.”</p><p>“Chloe!” Chris Seever calls. He’s wearing a simple black suit with a dark blue shirt underneath. The dim lighting highlights his movie star good looks. He flashes his megawatt smile as he nears, as if he hadn’t hid from a crazed fan in his own home earlier in the day. "Thanks for inviting me, I really don’t know what I’d do with myself tonight.” </p><p>“Oh, I can think of a few things,” Maze purrs.</p><p>“This is Maze,” Chloe says. “Feel free to ignore her.”</p><p>“Hey!”</p><p>“Nice to meet you, Maze,” Chris replies. He glances around Lux. “I’ve heard of this place but never been. One of my last co-stars had a crazy story about how the guy that owned the place gave her her big break." He laughs. “She called it her 'deal with the Devil.' Still owes him a favor but said it was the best sex of her life.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah? That, um, is a thing I’ve heard about this place.” Chloe cringes as Maze laughs behind her. Lucifer’s bedroom exploits casually being talked about is not new, nor is his proclivity towards deals and favors, but she finds herself tongue-tied in the face of Chris’s story. Not that she’s jealous. She isn’t jealous at all. Not at all.</p><p>“How are you doing?” Chloe asks instead.</p><p>“Glad I’m not there right now.” He nods up at the big screen behind the bar. An actress twirls on the red carpet, showing off her dress. “I don’t think I’d be able to fake it very well tonight. I’ve got my bags packed, a hotel booked for the foreseeable future, and I’ve already called my realtor.” He shrugs. “Not what I thought I’d be doing, but here I am. But enough about me. We never really caught up, what with the whole—” He waves his hands around. “What have you been up to, besides saving movie stars from crazy stalkers? And will I get a chance to meet the mister?” </p><p>Maze snorts.</p><p>Chloe opens her mouth to reply, but doesn’t get the chance as someone jostles Chris out of the way. </p><p>“My Lady,” Lord Doornail’s messenger says.</p><p>“Oh no,” Chloe whispers.</p><p>“I bring you the salutations of my Lord and his best wishes for your good health.”</p><p>Chloe blinks, somewhat taken aback by the messenger’s sudden appearance. Maze flicks her karambit lazily, and behind the messenger, Chris tugs at his suit jacket and frowns. The mood around the bar has turned serious as patrons notice the messenger and the demon coiled to pounce. Chloe shakes her head at Maze. “My thanks to your Lord,” she replies, dredging up all the etiquette lessons she absorbed the last time she dealt with the Fae. </p><p>The messenger nods, appeased.</p><p>“You know this guy, Chloe?” Chris says. He puffs himself up, jaw stuck out and eyes flinty, affronted by the intrusion.</p><p>“Go ahead,” Chloe tells the messenger, wanting to get this over. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have a message for me.”</p><p>The messenger bows low. He holds out a thick, off-white envelope. “As the lady of the hunt, my Lord wishes to dine with you and your house during the closing ceremonies.”</p><p>“Closing ceremonies?” Chloe repeats. What closing ceremonies? Lady of the hunt? What weird supernatural things are the fae dropping into her lap this time?</p><p>Maze’s foot taps against Chloe’s, a strange sort of reassurance. She steps forward and plucks the envelope from his hands. “We’ll see,” Maze says, swinging the envelope between her fingers. “It’s a busy weekend. Might not have time to fit your lordship in.” </p><p>The messenger bows again. “At my lady’s discretion,” he murmurs. </p><p>“Thank you,” Chloe says, stiff and formal. “Please enjoy the hospitality of my house before returning to your Lord.” Speaking so formally in front of her former co-star feels ridiculous. She gestures at Lux, the catered food, the happy crowd of revelers, and the shining TVs with the Golden Globes blaring across the screens.</p><p>The messenger nods and slips into the crowd. Chloe turns to Maze, ready to pepper her with questions, but Chris beats her to it. </p><p>“What the hell was that?” Chris asks, his back ramrod straight. He doesn’t take his eyes off the fae messenger as he steps into line for a drink.  </p><p>“Diplomacy,” Maze replies. She leans forward and bats her eyes at Chris coquettishly.</p><p>“You are gorgeous,” he tells Maze. “But I get the feeling you’re going to eat me alive.”</p><p>“Mmm,” Maze hums. “I promise you’ll like it.”</p><p>He turns back to Chloe with a look of concern, like he might have to duck out of Lux at any moment under a hail of bullets. “Are you with the mob or something?”</p><p>Chloe bites her lip and peers at the ceiling. There’s going to be no denying her connection to Lucifer while surrounded by so many supernatural creatures. “No, no. My job comes with obligations,” Chloe says, and now it appears there are obligations she’s not even aware of if the messenger is anything to go by. </p><p>“Like undercover work?” Chris looks over at the messenger like he’s been let in on some secret. </p><p>“Yeah, something like that,” Chloe replies, relieved that that’s the angle he’s latched onto. Not that anyone in their right mind would guess that she’s married to the Devil and viewed as the Queen of Hell. Because that would be crazy. “Come on, get a drink and come sit with us. You can meet my daughter.”</p><p>Patrick slides a gin and tonic her way. She presses it into Chris’s hands, and he obediently follows her back to the booth Dan, Trixie, and Trixie’s teacher are sitting at.</p><p>Dan moves over so Chloe can sit down, and Trixie’s teacher makes room for Chris next to her. Chloe hides her smile in her glass of wine as both Dan and Ms. Jones realize who’s joined them.</p><p>Chris extends a hand to Dan. “Chris Seever,” he says.</p><p>At a nudge from Chloe, Dan, bug-eyed, shakes Chris’s hand. “Daniel Espinoza. Uh, Dan. Call me Dan.”</p><p>Chris looks over at Trixie’s teacher. “Sarah, Sarah Jones,” she mumbles, looking like a feather could knock her over.</p><p>“And I’m Trixie Espinoza! I liked how you punched that guy in your movie.” She sticks her chin on her hands. </p><p>Chris nods. “Thanks, Trixie. So candy is your thing?”</p><p>“Knives and candy,” Trixie says. She bounces in her seat. “This is my party!”</p><p>“She started a candy business,” Chloe supplies. “Boxes of her candy were included in nominee gift bags.”</p><p>“Wow, that’s really impressive,” Chris says indulgently.</p><p>“Thanks!” Trixie chirps. “You need to work on your knife skills.”</p><p>“How about you show me sometime?” </p><p>Chloe wonders, biting back a laugh, just how disappointed he’ll be when he realizes how capable Trix is. </p><p>“Can I, Dad? It would be so much fun. Bailey would be so jealous.”</p><p>Trixie’s teacher sighs and Chloe smiles sympathetically. Middle-school drama isn’t a thing she wishes on anyone.</p><p>“So, uh, Dan. We’ve met before, right?”</p><p>Dan nods. “I was the lead detective on your murder investigation.”</p><p>Chris snaps his fingers. “That’s right! So you and Chloe work together! That’s great, getting to work with your wife like that.” </p><p>There’s a silent pause after his statement, and Chloe tries to figure out what to say next. </p><p>“Dad and mom are divorced,” Trixie announces loudly. “Mom married Lucifer. He’s my step-dad now.” She leans in towards Chris and says, “He owns this club, which is why we’re able to throw my party here, 'cause now Mom owns the club too!” </p><p>It’s like watching a slow motion train wreck. Chris’s eyebrows climb higher and Dan… Dan’s lips thin as he presses them together. His entire body looks like he’s been pulled taut and is about to break. </p><p>Trixie, nonplussed about the bomb she's dropped in the middle of the conversation, slurps at the dregs of her Shirley Temple, filling the awkward silence with a long slurping noise. </p><p>“Oh," Chris says, and turns his gaze to Chloe. From the appraising way he’s looking at her, Chloe is certain he’s back to being convinced she’s working with the mob. “Your husband is the owner of Lux. The guy that gave Shaina her big break.” He says it as a statement.</p><p>“<i>Husband</i>?” Dan repeats. “Chloe.”</p><p>Chloe glances around the table. They’re being given a wide berth by the assorted party goers, but she knows people are watching and listening. She can even see a few phone cameras pointed her way. </p><p>“Chloe, tell me you didn’t marry Lucifer,” Dan says.</p><p>She sighs. “It just kinda happened.”</p><p>“It just… Chloe!”</p><p>“So, you’re a teacher?” Chris says, overly loud, to Ms. Jones.</p><p>Trixie’s teacher pulls herself together in the face of Chris’s interest, clears her voice, and says, “Yeah, um, fifth grade.”</p><p>Chris whistles. “That’s a fun age. Just before puberty hits.”</p><p>“How…? When...?” Dan sputters. “How could you be so irresponsible?” </p><p>“Can I get you a drink?” Chris asks Ms. Jones.</p><p>“Yes, I think that sounds lovely,” Ms. Jones replies.</p><p>“Can I come?” Trixie blurts, already shifting to follow them. Ms. Jones glances over at Dan and then Chloe, who nods.</p><p>Trixie scrambles from the booth and the three disappear into the crowd.</p><p>“He left you, Chloe.” Dan says, after their former companions vanish from earshot. “And you married him?”</p><p>“It’s not like that, Dan. He had to go.”</p><p>“You didn’t have to marry him! Were you ever going to tell me?” </p><p>“Dan—“</p><p>“Is that where the money came from for Trixie’s business? Lucifer funded it?” He buries his face in his hands and groans. </p><p>“She started it herself,” Chloe assures. “Lucifer’s connections opened doors.” Doors of the pixie-shaped variety. There’s no way this business would have gotten off the ground, let alone flourished, without the pixies. Who, last she saw them, were throwing their own party up in the kitchen of Lucifer’s penthouse. </p><p>“Is he coming back?” Dan demands.</p><p>“I don’t think so.” </p><p>“Then… why, Chloe?” </p><p>“It was a spur of the moment thing. He wanted to make sure Trixie and I were taken care of." </p><p>“So you did it for the money?” The accusation in Dan’s voice is like a slap. She could care less about Lucifer’s money. Yes, knowing Trixie would be taken care of is a huge relief, but she would trade the wealth in a heartbeat if it meant having Lucifer back.</p><p>“No. Not for the money. I did it because I wanted to.” Also a lie. The marriage was a thing that happened, but now that she’s committed to the idea, to this strange one-sided marriage. She does want it. She wants the Devil as her husband, as strange as that is. It doesn’t mean she wants to change who he is. He’ll always be Lucifer Morningstar, but there’s room for so much more. Or there would be. If he wasn’t in Hell. </p><p>Dan blows out a harsh breath. “Let's just… let’s get through tonight. I can’t even begin to think about this right now.”</p><p>“No.” Chloe says. “I get that you’re upset, Dan. But you don’t get to judge what I do with my life. Not after—” She swallows and doesn’t finish the sentence. Not after Palmetto. Not after the gaslighting and divorce.</p><p>Dan pales, barely visible in the dim nightclub lighting. “I can’t do this right now, Chloe.” He drains his drink, thumps it onto the table, and stalks off towards the bar. </p><p>The Golden Globes play out on the television and the crowd parties on.</p><p>She’s never felt so alone.</p>
<hr/><p>The hellhorse tosses its head and chomps at the bit, hot saliva flying from its mouth. Sparks shoot from under its feet as massive hooves paw at the ground. </p><p>“Easy, boy,” Lucifer says. He runs his hand down the stallion’s broad neck and slaps him affectionately on the shoulder.</p><p>Hellhounds mill around, sniffing at the ground and snarling at each other, revealing massive canines. They’re good dogs, black and wolf-like. The tips of their ears reflect the firelight, and Lucifer can feel the energy coursing through them. They want to run, to hunt, to tear and rend. Bloodlust is rising, and they won’t be contained much longer.</p><p>A young hound who hasn’t quite grown into its gigantic paws bounds too close to Lucifer’s big black stallion. The horse’s nostrils flare, and the puppy yelps as the horse nips at its waving tail. The dog streaks back into the middle of the pack, tail tucked between its legs.</p><p>“You gotta learn!” one of the demon hound handlers yells after the dog. “Don’t mess with the horses. They’ll splat you.” </p><p>The hound handler nods at Lucifer. “This boy will treat you right. Good breeding in this one.”</p><p>All of Lucifer’s horses have good breeding. They came from Fae stock once upon a time and are specially bred for Hell. This stallion was bred for the hunt. He’s big, eighteen hands at the withers, with a thick crested neck and a muscular body. He’s not so bulky that he’ll have a hard time keeping up, but he’s got enough muscle and stamina to lead the way over the course of the next few weeks.</p><p>Lucifer gathers the reins, grasps the pommel, and swings into the saddle. The stallion prances in place and tugs his head, trying to loosen the reins. </p><p>Dreigus, the handler, pats the stallion on the nose and offers a piece of bloody bone as a treat. The horse snorts and lips the shard out of the demon’s hand. “Be a good boy now, Moscow Mule, you’re carrying the King.”</p><p>“<i>Moscow Mule</i>? Really, Dreigus?”</p><p>Dreigus shrugs, unperturbed. “We have heard of Lux, Lord Morningstar. We named the horses accordingly. If Moscow Mule is not to your taste, I could tack up Sex-on-the-Beach or Purple Nurple?”</p><p>“As much as I would love to enjoy Sex-On-The-Beach, I’ll pass on that particular disappointment.” The horse turns its head and tries to nip Lucifer’s boot. “You’re an annoying mosquito, my friend, so Mozzie it is.” </p><p>He pulls the reins in tight, gathering the horse beneath him. Mozzie snorts, and the stallion’s muscles flex underneath him.</p><p>The saddle isn’t Lucifer’s first choice of entertainment. If anyone is going to be ridden, Lucifer vastly prefers that it be himself and preferably in bed, although he’s had many a delightful tumble in a stable with a willing stablehand.</p><p>Lucifer whistles, and the hounds throw back their heads and howl, heeding their master’s call.</p><p>The great horse takes off at a canter at Lucifer’s urging, the hounds at his heels. They pass great basalt columns and gallop down a flat, long, cooled lava pool. Demons line each side, cheering and waving as Lucifer and the hounds pass.</p><p>The twisted gates of Hell rise before them.</p><p>Lucifer clicks his tongue and urges Mozzie on. They thunder through, the Devil on his mount and his hounds at his heels. He pulls on the reins, angling Mozzie towards one particular mountain in the distance and the little crack that will let them slip through to worlds beyond. The hot winds of Hell blow at their backs as the veil between worlds becomes thin and permeable. Mozzie whinnies but doesn’t break stride as they rush headlong at the crack. The wind and the howl of the hounds blend together.</p><p>They slip out of Hell and into worlds above.</p><p>The transition isn’t easy; the horse and the hounds are pulled through the thin spot by his presence and force of will. If a demon tried to exit hell this way without him, they’d immolate themselves in the fires rather than ascending to Earth. </p><p>Taking Maze to Earth so many years ago had been a calculated risk. There was a chance she wouldn’t have survived crossing from one plane of existence to another. It was something he’d never tried before. And yet, she’d come through and even adapted. </p><p>She must be off with Eve somewhere, enjoying all the delights Earth has to offer. </p><p>Delights he will not be partaking in. Not this time. This is an excursion to Earth, but there’s no seeing the detective. There’s only the hunt.</p><p>The hot winds of Hell deposit them into the cold north of Scandinavia. The hounds yelp as they transition from the burning heat of Hell to the frigid temperatures of the depths of winter. Lucifer shifts in the saddle and urges Mozzie along. The stallion rears, unused to the temperature drop. “Come now, you great drama queen,” he tells the angry horse. “We’ve places to be.”</p><p>Laughter floats on the breeze.</p><p>“Woden,” Lucifer greets, nodding his head towards the hooded figure emerging from the tree line.</p><p>Woden smiles his gnarled smile, his one good eye squinting in pleasure. “Lucifer the Morning Star,” he says in old Norse. “Well met.” </p><p>He urges his gray mare alongside Moscow Mule and extends his arm.</p><p>Lucifer clasps his forearm, happy to see an old friend. “It’s been some time. How is Frigg?”</p><p>Woden laughs. “Oh, you know how married life is.” An icy wind blows and Lucifer shudders. Woden keeps talking. “Just you wait. The intensity will fade, but you’ll look upon her face and still see that giddy young woman who said yes and made your entire world better.”</p><p>“Ah, as intriguing as that is,” Lucifer replies, not wanting to get into the details of his partnership, or lack thereof. “Have you seen Gwyn?”</p><p>“Here!” a voice calls from the woods. </p><p>Gwyn ap Nudd ambles into the clearing on his big bay horse. “Well met!” he calls, his voice high and clear in the cold night air. “’Tis the coldest night of the year and the Wild Hunt gathers!”</p><p>Gwyn’s skin is pale with blueish undertones, and with his preference for clothing that blends into the winter landscape, he’d disappear were it not for his horse. The big bay paws the icy slush, remnants of Lucifer’s trip from Hell, and snorts at the eager greeting the hounds are giving each other. </p><p>“The man himself,” Lucifer says.</p><p>Gwyn smirks back. “I could say the same of you. You’ve set tongues to wagging, Lucifer.”</p><p>Lucifer waves a hand and sticks his tongue in his cheek, leering at Gwyn. “When don’t I? It’s a talent I’m proud of.”</p><p>“But a mortal, Lucifer. Really?”</p><p>“She’s singularly unique,” Lucifer replies. “Stubborn, beautiful. Together we have the best close rate in the state.”</p><p>Woden raises the eyebrow over his empty eye socket and glances at Gwyn, who’s smirking.</p><p>“Well, if you’re going to be like that, I rather think we should get on with the hunt,” Lucifer says haughtily, feeling rather like they didn’t deserve to know about the detective’s many qualities if they were going to smirk at him.</p><p>“Never thought I’d see the day someone tied this cad down,” Woden says in a stage whisper to a laughing Gwyn.</p><p>“Dearie me, is this all you want to talk about?” he says with feigned anguish. It’s best they don’t know there’s real emotions twisted up in this gossip. That he would give anything to be back with the detective. </p><p>“Lucifer,” Gwyn says with an air of patient understanding that sets Lucifer’s teeth on edge. “It’s all anyone is talking about.”</p><p>“Yes,” Woden says. “The Devil married and then vanished back to Hell. The gossip has been flowing.”</p><p>Lucifer pulls Mozzie around and heads farther into the dark wood. “Where’s the rest of the hunting party?”</p><p>“Just over the Hill,” Woden replies. It’s considered quite the honor to ride on the wild hunt and spots are jealously guarded. It’s a chance to ingratiate yourself with others of high social position, to make deals, and enjoy a bit of fun. Not that Lucifer has ever found strenuous riding over multiple weeks to be his preferred way of spending his time. </p><p>If only he could escape back to Los Angeles. He’s absolutely certain there’s a murder that needs his attention. </p><p>He presses his heels against Mozzie’s side and sits deep in the saddle as his cantankerous mule takes off into an easy canter. Gwyn and Woden follow behind. The fae hounds and the hellhounds howl their eagerness into the night wind.</p><p>Above him, barely visible through the pines, are his stars. Their light touches his skin, and it feels like greeting old friends. </p><p>The hounds bay and bark, the horses break into a gallop, and ahead of them, the rest of the hunt awaits. Mortals will shutter their windows and lock their doors, and their heads will be full of primordial nightmares as the hunt passes by.</p><p>The wolf and the wind and the deep dark wood. Humans remember deep down in themselves.</p><p>Sometimes he wishes it weren’t so.</p><p>The hounds howl, and riders thunder into position behind Lucifer. </p><p>Horns sound and drums beat. The Wild Hunt begins, the Devil in the lead.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Once upon a time I was a horse girl (Still kinda am), and you bet your ass this fic is one big excuse to get Lucifer on a horse. Because a man who rides a horse well is super sexy. And this fic is nothing if not indulgent.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Massive thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchstick_dolly/pseuds/matchstick_dolly">Matchstick_dolly</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariaadagio/pseuds/ariaadagio">ariaadagio</a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahmonious/pseuds/sarahmonious">Sarahmonious</a> for the beta and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliObla/pseuds/ObliObla">ObliObla</a> for the supernatural creatures assistance. </p><p>I feel a little guilty posting this fic when Ella's Inferno still needs updating, and I promise, it will update. This fic just kinda pushed its way into my head and wouldn't leave until I wrote it. (And now it's turning into a series, goddamnit)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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